Burning Boils
by SilverAngel99
Summary: COMPLETED! It is the end of the 7th Hermione is overcome by a strange illness that can be cured by a potion. Unfortunately, Madam Pomfrey is ill as well, and Snape is called up to take care of the young Gryffindor. What happens when she needs his undivide
1. Dreams of the Past

**Disclaimer: **I do not, nor ever will, own any of the characters, places or objects mentioned within this story. Though, boy, I wish I did!

Thanks heaps to my marvellous beta reader, **Althea Grey**

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**Chapter One: Dreams of the Past**

It was when she caught even herself staring off dreamily in Transfiguration that Hermione knew something was wrong. It wasn't often that she allowed her mind to wander; even less often did her mind wander to the opposite gender.

Since Ron has gotten so tired of waiting for her, she realised, he had begun dating a sixth-year Ravenclaw. She hardly saw him during the day anymore, except in classes. At night, in the common room, he and Harry exchanged stories of their love lives, for Harry was dating Ginny Weasley. Hermione found this quite interesting, considering Ron's reaction to anyone dating his younger sister.

But Hermione herself had not dated since Viktor Krum, and they had lost contact about a year or so ago. Hearing tales of happiness from the boys, she was beginning to feel very lonely.

Angry with herself, she allowed her mind to turn elsewhere, and found herself soaring over the lush green mountains that surrounded Hogwarts. No, this wouldn't do!

There was no reason to allow her mind to wander in Transfiguration! She shook her head furiously, unfortunately just as Professor Hayrung strolled by.

"Any problems, Miss Granger?" Professor Hayrung asked. Since the death of Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall had taken over the role of Headmaster, so Eliza Hayrung had been brought in as Transfiguration Professor.

"No, no, Professor," Hermione shook her head and began to focus on her work again. Next to her, the boys sniggered. Of course, they still sat next to her – where else would they get their answers?

"There truly is a first time for everything," Harry gave her a wicked grin.

Hermione felt her face go red, so she quickly buried herself in the set work, anxious for the bell to go. She was worried as to why she let herself slip; she just didn't do that!

Still worried, she made her way to Potions at the bell. Three days after Harry had killed Lord Voldemort, Professor Snape had returned to the Order's Headquarters, accompanied by Fawkes and Remus Lupin. Lupin had found him in a muggle junkyard, unconscious with Bellatrix Lestrange standing over Snape, screaming about him for being a traitor and saying that he should have done the Dark Lord's bidding without the help of the Imperius Curse. She has used the Cruciatus Curse, again and again on Snape's weak, shaking body.

Unable to do anything else, Remus had killed her, and brought Snape's unconscious body back to the Order's Headquarters.

Five days later, Snape woke up. He thought they were still in war, and even more so, that the war had just begun. The last thing he remembered was returning to the service of Voldemort, upon the orders from Dumbledore. A recent addition to the Order, Mitchell Riley, who was excellent at Legilimency, had searched Snape's mind endlessly, only to find that Snape's last conscious memory was indeed Voldemort standing over him, saying the controlling Imperius curse.

Destroyed by what he had done under the Imperius curse, Snape had spent the summer recovering and trying to rest his mind. To help with this, he had returned to Hogwarts, to do what he did so well.

He returned to teaching Potions.


	2. Couldn't Know

Hi all! Thanks for the great reviews, and for the constructive critisms, I didn't realise that I'd done that, thanks for the advice!

Anyway, to continue on!

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**Chapter Two – Couldn't Know That**

Snape stood back and watched the Seventh years creep into the dungeons. He wore his usual sneer upon his face, though he did not have the usual heart behind it. But the students couldn't know that.

Swooping to the front desk, he felt the lasting effects of the Crucio curse twinge, almost causing him to stumble. But the students couldn't know that.

His lose robes fell around his skinny frame. He'd never been largely built, but now he was thin to the point of illness. Some days he just could not stomach food, and when he tried, he just threw it up all over his private rooms. But the students couldn't know that.

His days were wrecked by fatigue, his little sleep by horrible dreams that pushed him to stay awake. He was nightly driven to his private potions lab, searching for something, anything to occupy his mind. He could not dream, wouldn't allow himself to remember. But the students couldn't know that.

It had been almost ten months since his return. He'd spent the year working, pushing his students, using classes to run from the world and what happened. No matter how many times he was assured that the Dark Lord had been destroyed for good, he couldn't allow himself that hope. He could never allow himself to feel safe. But the student's couldn't know that.

No one could.

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Okay, so that was a pretty short chapter, just to give you an idea of the anguish, hope it's worked!

As for your reviews!

**Not mad mentally unstable**: first of all, great name! ;-) Thanks for the comments, I hope you've enjoyed this second chapter!

**Nastygurl666**: yeah, I think I've been caught up in the excitement, you'll probably say the same things about this chapter, lol. I didn't realise I'd done that, and it's hard to change, hope you stick by me anyway and see what I can do!

**Velvet Storm**: Yay, I'm going to be on someone's story alerts! Lol, I'm not easily excitable, I swear, lol. Hope you continue to enjoy this story!

**SlyGriff**: Here's an update here for you, hope you like it, thanks for reviewing!

**Severus-Fan**: Yeah, it could take a turn that way. I really hope that doesn't put you off this story! For some reason, it won't show up under that category, could anyone tell me why?

Thank you all!


	3. Flying Free

Hey again, second time today! Thought it'd be good to post this now, maybe even get the fourth chapter up later tonight!

Thanks again for the reviews :-)

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**Chapter Three: Flying Free**

"I wish that overgrown bat would just leave!" growled Ron softly as the trio took their usual places in the classrooms and began to organise their equipment.

Glaring at the snarly Professor, Harry nodded. Only Hermione disagreed. "It's not his fault Ron. You know that! I don't blame him for been so sullen these days."

"I don't care what anyone says, I'll never believe him. And anyway, if you think he's allowed to be grouchy now, what was his excuse before?" Ron snapped.

"Five points from Gryffindor", an icy voice rang." For talking during class." Snape glared down at the trio, earning himself glares from the other students in the House.

As Snape begun to explain today's class, Hermione found it harder and harder to concentrate. Words kept slipping away from her ears and she couldn't focus. But she didn't really mind, the blue sky was nice…

She was brought back sharply when Harry poked her in the side. "Come on, we're meant to be starting the dreamless sleep potion!" He whispered urgently.

"Oh… but I thought he said we were going to be studying the flying free potion today?" She gazed up at Harry, whose quizzical expression told her, quite clearly, that the Potions Master had said no such thing.

For the second time that day, Hermione shook her head. Where had that idea come from? Oh yes, the blue skies, the white clouds, the lush green hills she was soaring above…

Suddenly she was knocked into a tree, which poked her side quite sharply. The three had a face, black hair and glasses.

"Hermione!" Harry whispered urgently. Hermione blinked, surprised to see Harry standing next to her.

"Oh, yes," she smiled vaguely at him. "The flying free potion…"

Harry just looked at her, horrified.

"What? Harry, what is it?" Self consciously, she raised her hands to her face. Something was there, something that shouldn't be. Annoyed, she assumed it was a pimple. But when she realised that yellow goo that was oozing from it, she eyes glazed over in shock.

The entire class turned in time to see her pass out.

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Again, very short chapter, I will probably post some longer ones at some stage.

Thank you **SlyGriff** for reviewing again so soon, I'm SO glad you liked that chapter, hope you like this one too!

**Duj**, I guess I kind of twisted it to my perspective, what I could only hope. I know I didn't stay true to the book really in that sense, but please don't hold that against me. But thanks for the second review, yes, at least they are allowed to know potions!


	4. BlueBoil

Well, I'm quite unhappy with this chapter and can't seem to get it right, so I just thought I'd post it anyway. Hope you guys like it! Keep reviewing, I love them!

Hopefully my page breaks work this time!

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**Chapter Four**

Snape's eyes wandered over the class and paused just in time to see Hermione Granger pass out, something yellow streaming down her face. It was with a heavy thud that she did the ground, the entire class watching, silent with shock.

Moving to where she lay, unconscious, Snape allowed his lip to curl. What foolish student had been careless enough to have potion splash about? He didn't bother questioning as to why Granger had been seated when the rest of the class had been working hard.

Upon reaching Granger, Snape's expression turned to one of horror, which he quickly concealed. Her face had five large boils upon it, one of which was leaking yellow pus.

"Stand back!" Snape snapped to Potter, who was standing over Granger looking stricken. He pulled his wand out as Granger's eyes fluttered open.

"Dungeons?" She mumbled. "No… skies…" her eyes closed again. As a smile lit her face, Snape's mind snapped. This was no potions accident, oh no.

"Class dismissed!" He snapped. "Put your equipment and GET OUT!" His glare rounded on Potter and Weasley. "Yes, even you." They looked as though they wanted to argue, but they didn't dare, as Snape leaned over Granger, checking that she was still breathing and all.

As the classroom emptied, Snape knelt beside the Gryffindor witch. "Granger," he said in a rough voice. "Granger!"

Again her eyes opened. "P-Professor? Why are you flying?"

"Stand," he commanded. She attempted to, but slipped. He caught her. "We've got to get you to the hospital wing." Holding her, his lip curling again at the forced contact, he made their way across the dungeon to the fireplace. Snatching a handful of powered from the pot sitting upon the mantle piece, he thrust it into the burning flames. As they turned green, he dragged himself and the barely conscious student into the fire, he commanded "Hospital Wing!".

Whirling in the green flames, he held on as tight as he could bear to Granger. When they emerged from the fireplace, they were no in the Hospital, but instead looking at the portrait lined office of Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress. Beside him, Granger let out a small giggle.

"Minerva!" Snape called. The Headmistress appeared in the doorway. "How did I end up here? Miss Granger need to see Poppy right now!" His voice became a manic snarl.

Seeing the Headmistress's eyes flick to the student whom was growing another boil, Snape's heart sank when the Headmistress's expression turned grave. "Poppy isn't here, she's become very ill. The hospital wing is closed for the week." She said in a calm voice.

Granger suddenly giggled again, and told them both that she liked their wings.

Snape's eyes practically bulged. "But, Miss Granger needs help, now! She's growing boils and has become delirious!" He snarled. "She might be in serious danger!"

Minerva almost smiled, seeing Snape's concern for a student for someone outside of his own house. "She will not die, Severus." She said, quite simply. "Have you any blueboil potion?" She asked, pressing a finger to his lips.

"Yes, I do, but-"

"Go to your rooms and give her that there. Also give her something to knock her out for a while. Go." Snape began to protest, still attempting to hold the witch up, but Minerva cut him off. "Now!" She snapped.

Throwing more powder into the fire, Snape dragged Hermione into the flames and commanded it to take him to his office.

Once there, he persuaded the witch, who was giggling again to stand and walk through the door at the back of his office, into his private chambers, his lip curling the whole way. He hated the thought of having a female in there, let alone a Gryffindor female!

He let her to rest on the couch, dashing back into the office to retrieve two potions. He did not believe that the blueboil potion would work, that was used to cure small boils on hands and arms, not giant ones on her face, or delirium, as she appeared to be.

When he returned, Granger was red in the cheeks, and her eyes were open, seemingly unseeing. He didn't know how to administer to the two potions without having her choke on them, so he pulled her body up, then sat behind her, letting her lean on him. Her mouth was open a little, so uncorking the first potion, the blueboil, to her lips. "Drink," he commanded, tipping it.

At first she began to cough, spitting a little back out, but then took a swallow. When she had taken the proper three mouthfuls of that, he pressed the second potion to her lips, a potion for deep sleep, he gave her enough to make sure she would sleep for a least two hours. He would wait for Minerva's further instructions before continuing. She appeared to actually know what might be wrong with the witch.

Suddenly Granger fell limp against him, her hair fanning out across his lap. Disgust coursed through his veins, and he lifted her head, stood, and placed it back down, surprised by his own gentleness. He began to pace his sitting room, waiting for Minerva. Even now and then he stopped to see if Granger was still breathing.

Thankfully he did not have to worry about classes right now, as it was lunch and the school would be dining. Dining without him, the know-it-all, and the Headmistress.

On that thought, Minerva strode into the office, holding yet another potion.

"What's wrong with her?" Snape snarled, pointing. A boil was now growing on her hand, but a slower rate then the others had.

"She has BlueCloud Fever." Minerva said, moving to sit with the witch, who was snoring gently, not at all aware of what was going on around her. "It's rare, very rare. So rare, that not many witches or wizards are informed of it, or its antidote." She smiled grimly. "I know of it as I had it when I was Miss Granger's age. I've always had a hankering fear that it would come back, so I kept a bottle of potion to help cure it."

BlueCloud Fever… Snape searched his vast memory banks. Yes. He had heard of it, did know the antidote. He just couldn't recognise the symptoms.

"It is not deadly," Minerva continued on talking, stroking Granger's hair. "It's just… uncomfortable. Undoubtedly, Miss Granger is currently picturing herself flying high in the sky. But it won't be so nice for her for long. The boils appear when something in the dreams touches her."

"What can be done, Minerva?" Snape asked, stiffly.

Minerva sighed. "She needs constant supervision. Her boils need to be cleaned. Not ruptured, just cleaned. Every four hours, she is to take four hour sips of this potion, which I will require of you to make more," she held up a phial which contained a swirling purple potion. In her dreams, she may attempt to run, or harm herself, with out realising. This is why she needs constant care." She looked at him expectantly.

His trade-mark lip curl returned to his face. Never in a thousand years would he do it, Minerva was insane to even think it. "I'm sure her little… friends… will be happy to take care of her." He sneered at her.

Minerva looked over her glasses at her. "No, they've neither the maturity, time, or experience to deal with this. Unfortunately, I have only two of those, I've not the time, nor does any of the staff here."

"So send the brat to St. Mungos!" Snape snapped, his fists clenched. Never, never, never!

"It would be highly unwise to more her, Severus." Minerva said quietly. I'm afraid, you will have to be the one to look after her. "Your classroom is barely metres from where she would be, you could keep a constant eye on her, and you would be able to brew the potion, which I will send the instructions down to you."

He snapped, he snarled, he growled, he paced, he felt like running. He couldn't, he wouldn't, he'd never, not in the entire fucking world would he care for Hermione Granger!

Minerva handed him the potion. "Every four hours, I suggest you begin now. I will also send down the potion with which to clean her boils, which also must be done very four hours."

She left the room, not looking at Snape, or the girl on his couch, who was sleeping peacefully.

Snape however, had just stepped into Hell.

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sigh It's just not happening for me


	5. Trust

I'm hoping that this chapter will answer as to just why McGonagall is leaving Hermione in Snape's care when she could have picked any other teacher.

I promise that the next chapter (which hopefully will be up by tonight) will deal more with Hermione and what she's currently going through. For now, enjoy this!

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**Chapter Five**

Hermione sighed as she soared gently around the open sky. She felt so free, so free….

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After giving Granger the first does of potion, Snape took to pacing the room again, furious. He wanted to tear something apart, wanted to vent this anger. It was impossible to believe that he had gotten roped into this! What made Minerva think that he had time to be caring for students? He was a potions Master, not some MediWizard. It was his job to brew the potions, not administer them!

His black robes billowed out behind him as he paced, and as he made a very quick, sharp time to continue, he managed to get himself caught in his robes, and into quite a tangle. It was with much swearing and snarling that he managed to untangle himself, his pale complexion now a dazzling red, and his hair sufficiently messed up.

It certainly did not help that McGonagall was standing in his doorway again when he looked up. She was holding a bundle of cloth in one hand, and a potion and some papers in the other.

"I believe Miss Granger may need some bed clothes. I think we should change her now and get her rested in bed." She said simply, looking over to the student who looked so peaceful, sleeping on the couch.

Snape's lip was threatening to stay permanently curled. He knew perfectly well what bed the Headmistress was talking about. He was already making plans on how to destroy it once the girl was cured.

Still, he helped move Granger into his bedroom. His bedroom. His own bedroom. His private bedroom.

He left the room to allow Minerva to change the girl's clothes, albeit her being still fast asleep. He then stayed silent as the Headmistress handed him the instructions for brewing and administering the potion. They both knew that as angry as he was about it all, he would still take proper care of the young witch until she was back to full health. Minerva predicted that it would take a little over a week for her to be back to fighting form again.

Minerva applied the first lot of potion to the boils that were appearing on Hermione's arms, legs and face. The Gryffindor twitched as this happened, but Minerva kept going. Snape prayed that the boils would not show up anywhere else.

"I know you'll take good care of her Severus." Minerva whispered as she left. "I have unfortunately been summoned to the Ministry for the next few days, so if you need any help, which I doubt you will, you should call on Filius." She pointed a finger sternly at him. "Under no circumstances are you to move Miss Granger, or call on Poppy Pomfrey to help take care of her!" She commanded before leaving the room.

Severus stood, rooted to the spot as if Minerva had hit him with a Stupefy curse. Behind him, he heard the student in his bed snort in her sleep. He furiously wondered how he was going to be able to deal with classes, with her but metres away, constantly, sleeping and needing to be looked after. How dare Minerva do this to him! How dare Miss Granger do this!

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Outside the dungeons, Minerva made her way upstairs to the Great Hall, hoping Mr Potter and Mr Weasley would still be dining. As she strode into the Hall, whose ceiling reflected the cloudy day outside, she immediately spotted to the two young men. She saw them look up and glance her way as she made her way over to them.

"Where's Hermione?" Mr Weasley asked the moment she was in hearing of the pair. Minerva shook her head, indicating that they should wait, and then beckoned them from the Hall. She felt the glances of students all around her as she led the pair, especially from students who had been in the classroom when Miss Granger collapsed.

Once outside in the Entrance Hall, Minerva stopped and turned to face the boys. "Miss Granger will be okay." She said, quite simply.

"What do you mean, "will be", Professor?" Mr Potter asked, curiously. Minerva knew he'd pick up on that.

"Miss Granger has managed to contract BlueCloud Fever. It is not contagious, nor is it really known why it is caused." She continues in a professional manner. "She is being administered the right potions, she will recover quickly."

Both boys let out a small sigh of relief at this news. "When can we go see her, Professor?" Mr Weasley asked, looking eager.

Minerva gave the boys a small smile, not sure how their reactions would be to the next piece of news. "Unfortunately, you will not be able to." She said, hoping they wouldn't press, although she knew better.

"But Professor, you said it's not contagious!" Mr Potter protested.

"Yes, I did, Mr Potter, but as Madam Promfrey is currently quite ill, Miss Granger is not being cared for in the hospital wing." She took a breath. "Professor Snape has been asked to look after her, in his private rooms, so you are forbidden to see her, without destroying any chances Gryffindor has for winning the House Cup." She said with a wry smile, watching as the faces on her didn't know what to do, be angry, concerned, or demand their friend back. Before they could say anything, she intervened. "You will not go and see her, or you both will be serving detentions with Mr Filch for a week!" She pointed her finger at them both, looking at them sternly. "Good day, boys." Turning, she was not quick enough not to catch the looks of horror on the faces of the pair.

Making her way up to the Head Office, Minerva wondered if she was doing the right thing to keep Miss Granger in Severus's care. She knew without a doubt that he would take care of her properly, but she almost worried that it would be a lot of strain on their teacher/student relationship, if Miss Granger were to shy away from his carings.

It was true that Snape was as time pressed as a lot of the staff, but she was leaving the young student in Snape's care hoping it would do a lot for him. She knew what he was going through, knew of his midnight prowling, his inability to sleep, his worries. She hoped that he took this to his heart as a sign of the trust.

Since discovering everything that he'd done under the Unforgivable Curses, Snape had once suggested to Minerva that his presence should not be tolerated at the school, that the staff may consider him untrustworthy. She'd only had one thing to say to him.

"Dumbledore trusted you."

At these words, Severus had turned violent, smashing a chair. "And look what I did! Look what happened! He trusted me only for me to kill him! Who cares that I was cursed, that I didn't know what I was doing!" He snarled when he noticed the expression on her face. "I still did it, and Dumbledore never knew that I couldn't be trusted."

He had left Minerva to her own horrified thoughts. She then wrote him a letter. The subject was never brought up between the two again, and Severus stayed on at the school.

Having a young student in his care may just be as big of a help to him as he would be to her. It just might take his mind off what had happened; help him get back in contact.

She could only hope.

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Oh, wow! I can't believe all the fantastic reviews I'm getting! I thought I'd be nice and tell you all what I think, since you're all so nice to tell me what you think! Thank you again hugs you all

**Class of 2011: **Thanks for the review; I'm thrilled to hear that you're enjoying the story!

It's going to be fun to see him as a nurse, I hope you like the way I write him **Velvet Storm!**

I hope to please you with this SSHG tale **Adriane Silberaeon, **promise not to shoot me down if I don't:-P

Thanks **herovillain**, I guess we'll see how he copes with this, and yes, he definitely has the strength, this is Snape:-D

Yay, great to hear that you're on board **Severus-Fan**! They're my fav too, because I believe they are sooooo interesting and so much can be done!

Here you are **saz293**, I have continued! Hope you enjoy :-)

I'm glad you find my story cute **Nattie88**, hopefully you continue thinking like this! As for the bluecloud fever, I thought it was a bit out-there, so it'd be perfect for this!

Hope you find this chapter just as interesting, **Dragonmaster Kurai**

Here's your continuation, **MidnightStarz, **thank you for your rocking review

And yes, **duj**, yellow goo. And Minerva isn't specifically after Snape's time, she knows he has as much to do as the rest of the teachers, she just believes he is more able, it will also help him :-)

**Not mad mentally unstable** yes, you were my first reviewer, thank you so much! It was a real confidence boast for the first one to be so good, thank you so much! Thanks for your great reviews, stay with me!

**JTBJAB **I hope my last chapter was long enough for you, I am trying to keep my chapters longer, thank you sooooo much for your advice, I really, really appreciate it, being new to all this stuff! I love Snape as well, he's a fantastically intriguing character, thank you for your compliments! Keep reading!


	6. Wings and Fear

I hope you all like this chapter, we get to see a little bit more of what Hermione is seeing

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**Chapter Six**

After taking third years for potions in the afternoon, Severus Snape returned to his private chambers to check on the student who lay sleeping in his bed. Her cheeks were now red, with no fresh boils, and every now and then she twitched, or gave a small sigh.

Sighing himself, Snape realised the time. It had been four hours since Miss Granger had been given her first dosage of potions, it was time for another. He had set them both carefully on his dark mahogany bedside table, which matched his four poster mahogany bed. Upon his desk he had left the instructions for brewing more of the potions.

Not sure how to approach the task, Snape settled onto the bed beside the young witch. Much to his dismay, her eyes fluttered open.

"Professor?" She asked, somewhat feebly. One hand came up from beneath the covers of his bedspread, and reached to pat the air around him. "Where are your wings?"

Deciding that she was still quite delirious, Snape spoke to her directly, praying he would get through to her. "Miss Granger, you're quite ill, you need to take this potion." He said, holding one up.

"Yes, that will help me fly, like you." She giggled, and then smiled up at him in a way she'd never done before.

Quite stiffly, he held the flask to her lips, and tipped it up, allowing her the suitable amount. Next came the most dreaded part. Picking up the other potion, he explained to the sick, giggling witch just what he needed to do. _If she wasn't so sick, she'd probably find this very amusing_ Snape thought, as he attempted to explain it properly. He needn't bother, Miss Granger was fast asleep by the time he gently tugged the covers of the bed back to apply the potion on her boils.

Grinding his teeth, he forced him to check her stomach for any boils. He did not wish to explore any further, so simply tugged her shirt tight, to see if any unusual lumps appeared to be in places where he sorely wished they would not be. He allowed himself a sigh of relief when nothing showed up.

Pulling the sheets back up to cover her sleeping form, Snape backed away from he bed, having placed the potions back upon the beside table. Sighing, he left he room and returned to his office. From there, he retrieved the instructions for the potions, and opened the door to his private lab, which was just off his office, all the while keeping an ear out for Miss Granger.

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Hermione wasn't entirely sure why she was flying, but she was. It had been a sweet sensation at first, soaring above the land so calmly, but after awhile, she became to tire. She was forced to admit she didn't know where she was, but she knew she had to return to where she was meant to be. She had other things to be doing.

Up ahead, the weather did not look as pleasant as the warm blue sky she was currently floating through. Grey clouds were gathering, and even from where she was floating she could see flashes of lightening. Unsure, she tried to turn back, but instead found herself gently being lowered towards the trees below her, unable to turn around.

She began to panic, and tried to twist her body around so she could fly back to wherever she had come from. A tree seemed to reach up, and the top brushed against her foot. Crying out, she felt as though her foot had been ripped open, but she didn't dare look. She fought to rise back into the sky, to fly higher. As she struggled, she saw a figure rise before her from the canopy of trees. She watched in horror as huge black wings spread from the man in front of her.

Floating above the land with such ease was Severus Snape. She had seen him earlier, along with Professor McGonagall, but only from a distance. Now he was barely inches from her, his massive, black, feathered wings beating slightly to keep him afloat. His robes fluttered gently in the breeze.

As he approached her, Hermione became terrified. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to fly backwards, hoping he'd go away. When she opened her eyes again, she was no longer in the open sky, but in a dark room, with Snape looming over her. Screaming, she trashed about until she was back in the sky, with the winged Snape. He had stopped, looking uncertain.

Exhaustion overtook Hermione quite suddenly, and in thin air it seemed, she lay on her back, too tired to anything but float on the breeze. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Snape sink gracefully back into the cover of the trees.

She sighed, feeling safe. But as her eyes caught sight of the approaching clouds, she knew this safety wasn't going to last.

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Slinking back into his potions lab, Snape swore. When he'd heard Miss Granger crying out, he'd left the room in such a rush that he'd forgotten about the potion. Without even looking at the potion he knew it'd been ruined. He'd needed to add crushed mugwort at just the right time, and that time had passed.

He had to fight the urge to throw the cauldron across the room, but it was not out of anger of the potion. What had Miss Granger seen that had made her scream so violently, to shake with such fear? He'd heard pain in the first cry, the cry that made him drop everything and run to his room, but that pain soon turned to fear.

With a wave of the wand he vanished the destroyed potion, and then set about creating a new one, feeling his sense calm down as he began. What could have happened? He wondered, as he added the ingredients in the appropriate order. Minerva had told him that the 'dreams' wouldn't stay pleasant for long, but he didn't expect this. He didn't want this, for Merlin's Sake! He didn't want to be taking care of brat who was going to scream and thrash and disturb him.

After finishing bottling up both potions, he realised that he had completely forgotten about dinner, and his stomach growled at him for it. He threw a sneer at the doorway to his bedroom, knowing it was the witch's fault. If she hadn't have screamed, he would have finished the potions long ago, and he could have had dinner.

Snape knew he was being childish. He hated attended dinner anyway, seeing all the students and teachers before him. He usually spent his entire meal remembering how he'd failed them, how he'd let so many horrible things happen last year. But it didn't stop him from being his usual terrible self. How else would the students do their work properly, if they did not fear what would happen if they were to fail?

Growling with frustration, he returned to his study and paced, attempting to calm himself without brewing a potion, which often worked so well for the man. Understanding that it wasn't going to happen, he sat down at his desk to mark second-year papers with his usual viciousness.

By the time he had finished, his stomach was growling as much as he did in a first-year class. He hadn't eaten since breakfast, and while there once was a time where he often did not eat for days, that hadn't been for quite some years, and his belly was used to being fed. Thankfully it now nine at night, time to give Miss Granger another dosage.

He entered the bedroom quietly, the student lay sleeping still, looking quite hollowed out. Snape wondered again what she was seeing, where she was flying. He reminded himself that this was not a fatal condition, just uncomfortable. He briefly wondered if there was anything that could be done for the Gryffindor, short of moving her into more comfortable surroundings. Feeling quite sure that there wasn't, his lip curled as he gently pulled the covers on the bed back.

His lip stayed curled as he applied the potion to her boils. He hated touching this… female. She wasn't a girl anymore, nor was she truly a woman. He tired to touch her as least as possible, yet was careful to remain gentle. He told himself that this was to stop her from becoming scared when she needn't.

As he tended to the boils on her legs, he noticed the absolute mess her left foot was in. Boils covered the bottom of it, one of two leaking. He could only think what could have caused that kind of damage. Was this what Miss Granger had been screaming about earlier? His face turned to a scowl. Who cared, as long as this witch was cured and out of his chambers as soon as possible.

Carefully he covered up her legs again; he moved to wake the sleeping figure. "Miss Granger," he said, giving her a gentle shake. "Miss Granger." He tried for a more insistent shake, until she roused.

"Don't harm me." She mumbled. Snape's eyes widened in shock, before narrowing quickly. How dare she think that he would! Not wanting to believe himself, he could understand her fears. And this shook him greatly.

"I won't hurt you Miss Granger." He whispered. "I'm here to help you." He brought the potion up to her lips and she drank.

**-------------------------------------------**

Back in the sky, Hermione heard the gentleness in his words. "I'm here to help you."

This time Snape was floating behind her, holding out his hand. Ahead of her, the grey clouds were closing in very quickly.

Although she'd never heard such gentleness in her professor's voice, the Gryffindor in her decided to trust him. Turning her back on the grey clouds, she reached out and took his hand, letting him pull her back to safety, just a little.

And he was right… he didn't hurt her… for now.

**-----------------------------------------**

Hope that chapter was okay! Thanks for all your wonderful reviews; I blush every time I read them!

I'm glad you found the information on Professor McGonagall interesting, **Velvet **Storm, just wanted to back up why she chose Snape. Thanks for reviewing again!

**Fiji-Hopper**, I'm really glad you love my story, hope you continue to!

**JTBJAB**, no, I've no idea what Ashwinder in, will have to email and ask! And I appreciate your help so much, thanks for understanding:-)

Welcome to my story **Kiki**, thanks for reading! I'm so glad to hear that you're enjoying it, and I feel really special for being allowed to call you by your name! And yeah, I agree McGonagall was a little ooc, but I needed her to be that way as to explain things. Also, I figured she'd be a little different has headmistress.

Thanks again for your advice **Nastygurl**, I suppose it does look that way. I actually tend to write my story around everything I'm doing (eg, when taking a break from homework or whatever). Sorry about that! I'll try harder to make it better! Thanks for all your comments :-)

Yes, **Silver Fang**, it will be interesting to see the dear Potions Master as a nurse! I look forward to more reviews!

I hope that you do in the end find my story amusing **showmethehobbit**, enjoy!

I look forward to more reviews, please, please, please tell me what you thought of this chapter!


	7. Help

Hello all again! Thank you again for you kind reviews, I've answered at the bottom. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

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**Chapter Seven – Help…**

"Do you think that he's actually going to help her?" Ron demanded.

Both Harry and Ginny looked up at him, Ginny trying to stifle a yawn. While they too were concerned about Hermione's wellbeing, they were getting tired of answering the same questions again and again. Ginny put it down to the fact that Ron simply did not want to believe that Snape could possibly be of some help.

But to answer that… "For the thirteenth time Ronald," Ginny began, "yes, we believe that Snape will help Hermione." She examined a crack in one of her fingernails. "Why wouldn't he? He's been told by McGonagall to." She rolled onto her back. It was nearing midnight, and she wanted desperately to go to her room, but Ron had kept the questions and theories flowing.

"Maybe he just said he will, and maybe he will. But maybe he won't, and gives her the wrong potion." He said, his forehead creasing.

"Ron, as Hermione has pointed out to us on numerous occasions, he is the Potions Master." Harry said, bent over his Charms homework. It wasn't usual for him to do his homework, but he needed to take his mind of Hermione. "He wouldn't do anything to stuff up with potions, it'd be too obvious."

Ginny stretched out on the floor, studying the ceiling of the common room. While she hadn't actually seen Hermione since before she became ill, she didn't doubt Snape for a moment. She, along with most of the Order, had begun to trust Snape when Mitchel Riley had made his report. Ginny had utmost faith in Mitchel, and if he couldn't find anything, there was nothing to find.

Yet the boys, especially Ron, couldn't let the image of Professor Snape being evil out their heads. No matter what arguments were produced from anyone, they held steadfast to their beliefs. _Stubborn males_, she thought with a sigh.

"Then why can't we go and see her?" Ron demanded angrily, scowling at the fire as if it were the base of all troubles. "If he's not going to do anything bad to her, then why can't we go and see her!"

"If you were Snape, would you like two boys who dislike him immensely and refuse to believe what is plainly right before their eyes, would _you_ let them into your private chambers?" Ginny snapped, standing up and brushing off her jeans. "Maybe you should think on that!" Striding off to the girls' staircase, she felt bad. She didn't mean to snap at Ron, but he deserved. After all the times that Snape had helped them, saved them, and he still wasn't going to believe him.

As she ascended the staircase, she heard the soft voice of Harry say, "she has a point, you know."

**-------------------------------------------**

Severus Snape awoke the next morning at 5am with a crick in his neck. With a groan, he sat up from the armchair he was resting in. There was not a chance he could call the semi-dosing he had been experiencing all night sleep. He'd decided it was time to allow his body some rest after he cleaned Miss Granger's boils again at 1am and let her choke down more potion. He had moved one of the green leather armchairs that resided in his sitting room into the bedroom. He hated to admit it, but he was a little scared to leave his "patient" alone, after she'd had another fit of terror a few hours before. So he'd sat in the armchair in the shadowing corner of the room, watching Miss Granger by the light of the candle he kept burning on his beside table.

Several times during the night she'd little out a little cry, and tossed about. Snape worried about his bed sheets, remembering that they had been his favourite. But now he was most looking forward to burning them.

Standing up and stretching, he realised that he had woken up just in time to administer more potion. Lighting several more candles with his wand to give the room more light, he strode over to the witch. To his surprise, she was laying back, her eyes wide open, but apparently unseeing. Worry crept up his spine, but he dismissed it as simply a cold shiver. Leaning over and brushing his hair away from his face, he waved a hand before her face. She blinked.

"Come on, Miss Granger." He said in a quiet voice, being careful not to startle her. "Time for more potion." He cringed at the sound of his own voice, thinking himself as pathetic as that MediWitch upstairs. The one who had come down sick at the most perfect time, leaving him to… Snape growling, pushing these thoughts away. He rested on the bed next to Granger and again gently pulled back the sheets. A few new boils had risen on her legs, which Snape was quick to dab potion onto.

When it came to drinking the potion, he managed to rouse the witch for a few moments to swallow the potion. When he had set it back down, he found himself not wanting to move for a moment, despite the… female that lay but inches from him. One night out of his bed, and already he missed it, he thought irritably, casting a dark look over to the armchair. Why hadn't he thought to transfigure it? He could have made quite a comfortable little cot. What part of his brain hadn't been working when he'd moved that wretched thing –

He was suddenly cut off by a scream from Miss Granger. "NO!" She yelled, thrashing. "You said you'd HELP me, you bastard!" In her thrashings, she managed to grab his arm, and in his surprise, caught him off guard and flung him across the bed, until he was sprawled over her.

"You LIED!" She shrieked, her eyes clenched, her nails flying at him, scratching. "No, don't take me there, don't take me there, don't take me there!" She began to cry.

Scrambling, he tried to sit up. Just as his head rose, he found his eyes staring into chestnut eyes, eyes filled with horror, with terror. "Please don't take me there." She begged him, holding onto his arm. "You said you'd help me." Her nails began to dig into his skin painfully. Her chest was heaving with effort. Tears leaked down her face, her expression pleading.

Snape took a breath. "Miss Granger, I won't take you there." He didn't have any idea where _there_ was, but he wouldn't. "I didn't lie; I am here to help you." He kept his voice quiet and gentle, reassuring. He told himself that he could be very persuasive when he wanted to, but he knew he was lying. "Please Miss Granger, I won't take you there, I won't hurt you."

Her gazed glazed over, and he wondered what she was seeing, because she didn't seem to be seeing him. "Y-you won't?" She asked, quivering. Her grip lessened.

He removed his arm from her grasp. "No, I won't." He slid up the bed closer to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I won't take you there, I won't hurt you." He whispered again. She trembled at his touch, but he moved to stroke her hair, telling himself it was only to help calm the scared witch down. His fingers became locked in her tangled mousey hair. "You don't have to go there, come back with me." He still didn't have any where he was talking about, but the words seemed to work.

She visibly relaxed. "Away from here." She closed her eyes again. When she opened them again, they were clear. She looked straight into his eyes, and he felt as though she was looking straight into his brain. "You'll help me, you'll help me." She whispered, closing her eyes again.

Gently he lowered her upper half back onto the bed. She was breathing evenly again and appeared to be sleeping. He hoped that she would stay this way as she backed away from the bed as fast as he dared. He looked at his hands with disgust, and decided it was probably safe to have a shower, now that the Gryffindor was settled again. She seemed to have about three hours between these terror attacks.

Stepping into the bathroom, closing and locking the door, he stripped himself, and with a flick of his wand, sent the clothes down to the house-elfs to be cleaned. Turning on the shower so it was as hot as he could possibly take it, he stepped inside, and then wished he still had his wand, so he could lock even the shower screen in place. Standing under the hot stream of water, he scrubbed himself as hard as he dare, as if to wash away what had just happened.

What was it that Miss Granger was seeing in her delusion? What was it that was terrifying her so much? And where the hell was _there_?

Lost in his thoughts, he stood into the shower until it turned cold.

**----------------------------------------------**

Hermione let Professor Snape lead her a bit further away from the oncoming storm. She still couldn't lower herself without being hurt and she could only turn around when the Professor was there to help.

She was quickly becoming tired and irritated by the lack of being able to decide where she was going. But she felt herself being pushed towards the thick coverage of clouds ahead. Sometimes she felt as though it was Snape who was pushing her there, and she assumed he was pushing her to her death. There was no way she could fly in that that storm, and it hurt so much, so very much to try and land. She was surely going to die.

She was shocked at one point when she turned and saw Snape fluttering beside her, his feathered wingtips gently brushing against her. Instantly she had assumed he was the one trying to coax her towards her death. She had been surprised when she actually did feel his touch, his hands on her shoulders, calming her down. At one point, she had sworn she was back in the dark room again, looking into his black eyes by the light of candles that were nearby. But when they were back, high in the sky, she knew that was impossible.

But, oh, the gentleness she'd seen in his eyes, the warmth she'd felt in his touch as he calmed her, brought her away from the storm. She didn't think it was possible for the over-grown bat Professor to be so kind, so gently. He'd lessened her pain when he'd arrived, somehow, someway. But now he was gone and she felt lonely.

Wishing for Harry, Ron or Ginny to show up, Hermione floated upright gently above the trees, which were gaining a nasty, sharp look about them. Oh, how she wished Snape would come and rescue her for good before the storm hit.

No, she quickly changed her thoughts. Snape was not going to rescue her, her friends were. But panic rose in her chest as she realised that Snape had been the only person she'd seen in hours… not since Potions. How did she make it between here and Potions?

Oh, she was so tired, she didn't want to think, didn't want to fly, didn't want to see the storm that was heading towards her. He was her only hope, really.

"Snape…help me please…" she whispered, before letting her consciousness fail again.

**------------------------------------------------**

Wow, hello again **JTBJAB**, I'm really happy that the previous chapter was your favourite, I quite enjoyed it. I'm really glad it made you feel "warm and fuzzy", thrilled me to hear it! Love to get a reaction! I hope you find this chapter just as good!

I'm sorry for not answering your reviews sooner, **NayNay**, but I wuv you too! To avoid being beaten to death with a shovel, I will continue the story… as long as you continue to read and review! Mwahaha!

Hey **Nastygurl**, thanks again for your advice, I hope I've done better on this chapter in that area. Thanks for your kind words as well, and yes, I was very happy with that chapter. Hope you find this one okay!

Yeah, **duj**, I gave Snape wings more like a raven then a bat, but not specifically a raven, maybe some else, because I like feathered wings better then bats! LOL and also, the fact that in Hermione's delusions he isn't a bat-like creature says that while she finds him dark, she doesn't see him as the "overgrown bat" :-)


	8. The Storm

Pre-warning, this chapter seems a bit off to me, but no matter what I do to it, I can't seem to fix it, so please refrain from flaming me if you disagree with it.

Try and enjoy!

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**Chapter Eight**

Emerging from their room, Harry and Ron both held a silent hope that when they walked into the Gryffindor common room, Hermione would be waiting by the fire for them in their favourite armchairs, brimming with tales about how awful it was to stay with Snape.

Their descent to the common room ended with a plummet of spirits. A few students were sprawled about the room, either coming back from breakfast, going to breakfast, or still half asleep, but their brown haired friend was no where to be seen.

"He'd better not hurt her." Ron said, through clenched teeth as they walked glumly down to breakfast. "It's a pity it's Saturday. If we had Potions, we could have slipped in and seen her."

Harry pretended to stumble. "Ron! I never thought I'd see the day when you wished you had Potions!"

Ron glared at his friend. "You know, it'd be nice if you or Ginny were actually worried about Hermione being cooped up with that overgrown bat!" He muttered, and stalked off to the Great Hall. When he arrived, he instantly looked up at the Head Table. McGonagall was missing, he noted, as was Snape. Irritation surged through him. Where was he! And what was he doing to Hermione?

**-----------------------------------------------**

Down in the dungeons, Snape was actually calming down a very distressed Miss Granger. It had been much to his surprise that after giving her a dose of potion at nine in the morning, and attempted to move away from her, to go and search for food, she had started calling for him.

"Professor? Come back, please, I don't want to be alone." He wasn't even sure if she was awake or still lost in the land of… wherever she was, or awake, but still, he retreated back into the room, and carefully sat on the bed, away from her. "Don't leave me." She whispered, her eyes open and unseeing again. "If you go, please take me with you, otherwise it'll get me." Her cheeks were flushed. Gently, he leaned over and place one pale hand on her forehead, feeling her flesh burning. Reaching for his wand, he placed a cooling spell upon her, and she sighed in what could only be described as relief.

An hour later, Miss Granger fell into what seemed a very deep sleep, instead of a dream-troubled rest. Snape tried to move off the bed, and felt enormous relief when she didn't call him back. There was only so much time he could stand sitting next to that brat. To stretch his legs, he left the room, his lips curling. It was infuriating, being tied to his own rooms by a know-it-all girl who usually cringed at the very sight of him.

Of course, he couldn't deny that she had talent, no matter how hard he tried. She'd not once made a mistake whilst brewing a potion, but he'd never allow anyone else to know that. He was only waiting for the day when she would make a mistake, and he could gloat in her face. But his time was running short, there was little more then a month before the end of the year. While he was looking forward to getting rid of her little friends and her know-it-all attitude towards work, he couldn't help but feel that it would be a long time before he had such a talented student in his class. He'd spent seven years refining her talent without her noticing, as he had been with all the class. Even Neville Longbottom didn't need as many instructions from Miss Granger, apart from when Snape was standing at his shoulder, which Snape so loved to do, just to watch the boy feel pressure, which he needed to.

A movement ahead made Snape snap awake, and he realised that he was standing near the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Ahead, a Slytherin boy and a Ravenclaw girl seemed to be some sort of tussle. With another sigh, before regaining his "imposing professor" posture, Snape swept up the corridor to meet the pair.

**-----------------------------------------------**

Hermione was snapped out of her dozing by a fierce wind that begun to blow around her. She looked up to see the blue sky above her disappearing, only to be replaced with grey clouds that slid across her world. The storm that has been speeding towards her for hours was here. And where was Professor Snape? He'd been next to her just a moment ago; he'd not left her side in hours, helping to guide her gently away from the storm when she needed it.

And now, when she most needed him, he was gone. Terror shook her as much as the wind did, knocking her about. She lost control, and began to fall towards the trees that seemed to reach up as if to grab her and eat her. She fought to rise again, screaming the whole time. Lightening was flashing around her, and rain began to fall, soaking her, making it all the harder for her to stay airborne. She would not fall, she would not fall, she repeated again and again in her head.

At these thoughts, the storm grew more vicious, the wind ripping at her exposed skin. She felt as though she was being whipped again and again, and rain was falling in fat droplets all over her, making it hard for her to see. The rain mingled with her salty tears as she screamed and cried for help.

Lightening flashed just to the left of her. She let out another scream. She was going to die, she just knew it. It was so tiring to stay airborne, she couldn't do it any longer. Her whole body was aching. Yet every time she was lowered into the trees, she launched herself back skyward, unable to do with the pain that was rocketing through her body. It was hurting too much, much too much.

She tried to fly forward as fast as she could, darting through lightening and trying to find the end of the storm. Her muscles screamed at her to stop, to stay still, and just to let herself die. The storm seemed to just go one forever.

**----------------------------------------------**

Furious at what he'd just seen, Snape stormed back into his classroom, only to be greeted by the screams that were coming from his bedroom. _Miss Granger!_ He thought with a fright, sprinting to his private chambers. He came to a skidding halt when he reached the bedroom.

Miss Granger was looking helpless, thrashing about weakly with sweat pouring off her body. Screams and cries erupted from her body as she threw herself around the bed. "No, no, NO!" She screamed. "I won't die!"

At this, Snape threw himself at the bed, grabbing her arms.

**--------------------------------------------**

Hermione felt the strong hands close over hers. She opened her eyes to see the Potions Master floating effortlessly in front of her, holding onto her arms. "You won't die." He said, his black eyes looking straight into her chestnut eyes. "Fight it Miss Granger, fight it."

**---------------------------------------------**

Miss Granger's eyes were wide open and looking straight at him. "Fight it." He said again. Beneath him, she thrust up, her screams erupting again. "Fight it, Hermione!" He screamed at her, holding her down, trying to settle her down. Her hands had latched onto his shoulders, and he moved to wipe sweat from her face.

"It's so hard!" She shouted, her face twisting in pain. "Help me, please help me!"

Snape reached for the potions again, and tipped some down her throat, causing her to choke.

**-----------------------------------------**

When Hermione felt herself convulsing, trying to swallow something, she was sure this was it, she was dying. Her clenched up everything in her body, her muscles screaming at her to stop fighting it, even when the voice of her teacher was telling her to. She felt her hands close around his robes and pull him towards her, and she let out another scream of pain.

Suddenly her muscles released, and there was no wind, no rain, no howling weather surrounding her. There were still hands holding her arms tight. She opened her eyes to find herself in a dimly lit room. She'd seen this room once or twice. She'd also seen the man inches from her face, panting.

"P-professor?" She asked, her hands were still clutching his robes. She wasn't sure if this was real, didn't want to let go in case she slipped back into the storm. Oh, how she ached, her whole body was in so much pain.

Through the curtain of hair that covered his face, Hermione saw Professor Snape open his eyes. When he raised his head to look at her, she was caught by the vulnerability that was on his face. She'd seen that in the sky. "Miss Granger… you're okay." He whispered.

"I don't know, sir." She managed to squeeze out.

"No, shh, sleep, you're okay."

**-------------------------------------------------**

Snape was heartened by the small smile that crossed her face then. "The storm's over. You saved me." Miss Granger closed her eyes again, but Snape felt she was more at peace now. Gently he brushed the hair away from her sweaty face, before casting the cooling spell again for her.

Then, stepping away from the bed, he snarled at himself for allowing such a moment.

**-----------------------------------------------**

Yup, I know, Snape was a little ooc there, but I hope it was still okay for you all out there! It's late and I need sleep, have school tomorrow, so won't be replying to reviews tonight, I'll do that along with the next chapter, which should be up by tomorrow night.


	9. Burning Boils

This chapter is focusing on how Hermione's feeling now that she's awake. I don't have much of a feel for Hermione's character right now, nor how Snape reacts to her, so I've written it as well as I can. Hope you can at least get some enjoyment out of it!

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**Chapter Nine**

Sunday dawned cloudy over the Hogwarts school grounds. It seemed even gloomier for Harry and Ron, who were beginning to really worry about their best friend.

"She wouldn't willingly stay down there, would she?" Ron asked, looking out of the corner of his eye at the empty armchair in the common room, where Hermione usually sat, doing homework.

"I don't know." Was all Harry could say. He didn't want to think that Snape could be doing something evil to one of his best friends. He couldn't hold her against her will. McGonagall knew she was down there.

Yesterday, for the first time in… almost as long as Harry had been attending Hogwarts, he and Ron went to the library together, without Hermione. They had looked hard to find out just what the "BlueCloud Fever" was that McGonagall had informed them Hermione had. But the library had no information. And when they could not find information, they usually turned to Hermione. At this, Ron had slammed his hand down onto the desk, causing Madam Pince to kick them out without question.

Much to their surprise, they had not seen Snape swooping around the corridor in his bat-like fashion. Usually he was right there, waiting for them to slip up and make a mistake.

Rather frustrated, they had taken out their anger on the Quidditch Pitch in afternoon, and the evening playing Exploding Snap. But the next morning, when they still had received no news from their friend, they began to plot ways to get into see her.

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Feeling slow, groggy, and very, very sore, Hermione awoke. She felt as though her body had been taken to by several angry monkeys with carving knives, ripping at her flesh. She wished to go back to sleep, but she knew that now she was awake, the pain would never let her return to the sweet nothingness of sleep.

Opening her eyes, she almost expected to see a blue sky above her. Instead, she could hardly see a thing. Thinking back, she tried to remember what had happened. The last thing she remembered was Professor Snape's face, looking into hers, a comforting expression on his face. Where had she seen that look before? The sky… the clouds…

Where was she? She looked around at her surroundings. She was in a bedroom she didn't remember she'd ever been in before. There was a bookcase along one wall, and she just itched to climb out of the mahogany bed she was resting in. The bookcase went from floor to roof, full of books. Although she could no see the titles from the bed, she ached to sit into the green leather armchair that was facing the bed and begin to read, until she'd read all the books. Straight across from her was an open door, through which she could see a handsome leather couch, matching the armchair that sat in this room. Against the wall she could see of that room, there was yet another bookcase.

To the left of the bed stood a mahogany wardrobe, and a closed wooden door. On either side of the bed sat a small dressing table, upon which books, papers and candles were stacked. To the right, there were two potions. The bed was covered by a beautiful black satin doona, with gold stars and moons sewed upon it.

Hermione would appreciate the bed cover later, when she wasn't in such pain, she thought. As she reached to pull down the covers of the bed to inspect what was causing her such pain, the door on her left opened, and one Severus Snape strolled out.

They both jumped at the sight of each other. Hermione noticed that Snape's hair was wet, and assumed that the room he had just emerged from was the bathroom. Horror soaked through her as she realised she was in Snape's bed. Why else would he be in the bathroom? These were Snape's rooms, Snape's chambers, Snape's books, Snape's candles and worst of all… Snape's bed!

"Miss Granger, you are awake." He stated, giving her an almost shaky look.

She wasn't sure what to say. "Where am I?" She asked, silently begging him to tell her she was somewhere other then his bed.

He cleared his throat, and looked wary. "You are… in my private chambers. You are very ill, Miss Granger."

"I hurt," she whispered, and watched in amazement as he moved, as though about to walk over to the bed, instead, he took out his wand and pointed it at the armchair in the corner. It zoomed closer to the bed, and he sat down.

"I know you do, how could you not?" Hermione noticed the bags under his eyes, they were worse then she'd ever seen. Raising an arm out of the bed, she was about to brush some hair out of her eyes when she noticed the boils, rising angrily out of her arms. There seemed as though there were hundreds. Her mouth opened in horror, as she stared. She brought her other arm up, and was horrified to see the boils rising even there. Pushing the beautiful bed covers away, she gazed at her legs. She could barely see them for all the boils that rose out of her skin.

She didn't dare explore her body any further, she knew they were there. She lay back down, feeling the pain course through her body again and again. Her breathing was hitched as her muscles yelled at her for moving.

_What happened to me?_

"You have BlueCloud Fever." Professor Snape said, snapping her out of her thoughts. She hadn't realised she'd asked the question aloud. He was sitting in the chair, watching her with an unreadable expression, his voice neutral.

_BlueCloud Fever_..., Hermione turned the words over and over again.

"A fever that lasts few hours,

But burns for a while.

A sweet experience beginning,

And ending so vile.

But never mind dear,

You'll hurt from this,

But the burning boils,

Will scare off death's kiss."

She said slowly, repeating what she'd read in _Rare Diseases of the Mind and Body_.

"Ever the know-it-all." Snape said, his voice still neutral. Hermione didn't know whether to take it as a compliment or be offended.

Hermione studied him for a moment. This was not the Professor she knew. The man who stood before her was quiet, and not sneering. She wasn't sure what to think. They were shrouded in silence for a moment until she broke it.

"Professor?" She saw him look up, and met his eyes. "May I please have some sleeping potion?"

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Snape didn't recall being so tired in a very long time. Even when nightmares pushed him from his room, he had at least had an hour or two of fitful sleep, enough to keep him going. But last night he had not being able to sleep, in fear of what might happen to Miss Granger. After the fever broke, she had fallen asleep, and not woken up until just now. That was almost 24 hours. So many times he had go and sit with her to check that she was still breathing.

Fear had overcome him in that he was scared of what might happen if a student died in his care. Even though Minerva had assured him that BlueCloud Fever was not fatal, it was still so scary that a student could lay so still and so quiet for so many hours. She had not even roused when he had attended to her boils.

Looking at her poor body, Snape had to fight very hard not to shudder. She was a mess of a young woman, with boils appearing all over every inch of her exposed skin. They had risen at a very alarming speed after Hermione had fallen asleep.

When he was faced with the prospect of boils rising on areas of Miss Granger's body that he would rather look at, or touch, he had been faced with a very interesting task indeed. Knowing the boils would be there, he had solved the problem by fetching a face towel from his bathroom and soaking it in potion. Gritting his teeth and cursing McGonagall in every way he knew how (silently, however), he'd slid the towel up her shirt, and gently dabbed it around, hoping the potion managed to reach all the needed areas because there was no way in hell he was going to check.

In the end, he'd used this method to apply the potion to her boils all over her body. While it used a lot of potion, it was quick and effective. At 3am, while listening out for any sound from the bedroom, he'd made more potion. The rest of the night he'd spent watching Miss Granger sleep. He had tried to correct papers, he had tried to read books, he had tried to do research into things, but nothing worked to take his mind off the problem.

At ten Sunday morning he decided to take a shower, to rid himself of the stench that was his worry. He was angry with himself for getting so worked up over a student. But when he returned to the bedroom and saw the object of his worry was awake, relief had coursed through his veins faster then anger did when he was facing Potter in any situation. When she spoke to him, her voice had calmed his nerves.

Yet it was much to his amusement that frustration raged through his body when she had recited that bloody poem. He could not let her see that, and when she had asked for a sleeping potion, he had to try hard not to storm out of the room.

Show off! Know-it-all! Over confident, _Gryffindor_ bitch! He snarled to himself as he snatched the potion out of his private storeroom. He pushed his wet hair away from his face with his free hand, hoping to push away some of his anger. _Anger has no place in sickroom_, he told himself, adjusting his black robes. He needed sleep, and he needed food, so badly. While he body had once been used to being denied of such luxuries, the added strain of a student's life hadn't very often been added into the mix.

Returning to the room, he found Miss Granger studying her arms, tears running down her face. She looked up when he entered. "It hurts so much." Her voice broke, taking his spirit with him.

What was wrong with him? What did he care whether the wench was in pain or not. _The fact that the moment she is not longer in pain, you can throw her from your bed_, a voice inside his head told. But he knew this was a blatant lie.

Holding the sleep potion, he moved to sit on the bed next to her. "Here, drink this, it'll help. It's a potion for numb sleep." He brought the potion up her lips. "You won't have to worry about the pain."

"Thank you." She whispered, taking the potion.

Severus Snape sat next to her on the bed long after she fell asleep.

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Wow! I can't believe how many reviews I've gotten, I'm really feeling very special now! Since I didn't reply to any reviews last chapter, being so tired and all, I'll make it up to you all now! Thank you again for all your readers!

Hello **BrokenAngel1901**, great to see you enjoy the way I write! Keep reading, hope you continue to like it!

**Snape14**, I'm really happy that you like the way I write those things with repeating, it's just a way to make sure the whole impact of the situation gets across. Thanks for your really nice compliments!

Your wish for an update has been granted, **Severus-Fan.** I hope you enjoy these new chapters and this story will hopefully continue to make you feel warm.

**Jenonymous, **while McGonagall I agree is a little ooc, she's also a professional who wants the best for both her staff and her students.

I'm glad you're liking the way I'm headed, **Nastygurl**, I'm still working on it all! Again, stick with me!

Yeah, **bookxlurver**, it is a bit of an odd storyline, but one I though would hopefully work out. Glad you like it, despite it being weird.

Come on **Kiki**, Snape can definitely be cute ;-) Let's see what you think of him after the next couple of chapters! And no, I don't attend school during Summer. I'm actually in Australia, so it's winter for me at the moment.

**Tinas74**, glad you liked how my chapters became a little longer, yeah, I realised they were too short, now work at keeping them fairly longer, which is working out okay. This is my first, I have a long way to go yet with getting better, please keep reading and help me out!

I was thrilled to get your review **not mad mentally unstable**! I hope your computer behaves itself a little more, and allows you to read more of my story!

**JTBJAB**, hope you enjoyed Snape's reaction to that scene, as was explained in this chapter1

He does to, **Shdwcat27**, he just doesn't know it yet.

Thank you so much for your review **xxx-kisses-xxx**, you're got a really valid point that while Snape may have been ooc, that may just how he is when we don't see it. I'm sorry about my typos, I should get a beta, shouldn't I:-P But I enjoy writing and posting as soon as I've written, which probably isn't such a good thing, hey? Also, I will look out for you and your tuna!

Yes **NayNay,** I know you'll beat me up, why do you think I'm still writing! Lol. Hopefully your question was answered in this chapter!

Sorry that I'll probably disappoint you on the update front **Fuji-hopper**, I probably won't get close to my computer after tonight to update!


	10. Sleeping Snape

I didn't get to update last night, and am lucky to do so today! Just as a note, it'll be quite rare for this story to updated on either Fridays or Saturdays!

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**Chapter Ten**

By Sunday night, Snape was a wreck, as much as he tried to hide it from the student who lay in his bed. He couldn't think straight, his head felt foggy from lack of sleep and his stomach was growling at him for food. Yet he couldn't bring himself to leave the chamber to attend a meal in the Great Hall, didn't want to see the students who were perfectly well and calm. He especially didn't want to see Potter and Weasly. He imagined they were most likely feeling incredibly hate for their potions master right now, providing they knew where they best friend was. Snape knew they would have begged to know where she is, and knowing McGonagall, she would have told them.

So meals were out of question. As was sleep, for Snape's body just would not allow him rest. While he could sit for awhile, sleep seemed impossible. He put it down to the fact that a female was invading his chambers, his own private space. He couldn't help but feel a snarl arise when he thought about this. Yet the snarl vanished when he remembered why she was there.

Miss Granger was in most excruciating pain. When she was awake, she could not move, and as there were boils on her back as well as front, she could not get comfortable. However, as he gently tended to the mess that was her body, he noticed that in last 24 hours, there had been a sure improvement in them. He tried so hard not to wake her as he cleaned her up, not wanting her to feel anymore pain.

_No,_ he told himself. _You just don't want to have to deal with that brat of a student_. Thinking this, Snape tried very hard to convince himself of such an idea.

**------------------------------------------**

Hermione once again found herself in the blue sky. The first time this had happened after she'd been released from the storm, she had become very frightened, thinking the delusions were starting again. But she soon came to realise that this was just a dream. A dream that visited every time she closed her eyes.

Now she learned that these were dreams, she also found she could touch the ground without pain ripping through her body; she could sit amongst the trees and feel at peace.

During the first dream, Snape had slowly walked up to her, his huge wings folded tightly against his body. He had whispered to her, assured her he wasn't going to hurt her, and the knelt next to her. It had been a shock when he had reached out to her with shy hands, began to gently massage her, run his hands over her. His touch had neither been impersonal, or sexual, more gentle, tender, comforting. She had felt enormous relief wherever he touched her, even when she found his hands running over her breasts and legs.

Sighing in comfort, Hermione had leaned into his hands, wanting his wings to wrap around her. She knew that when he left, the pain would return. And after raising a glass with a light blue liquid in it, and gently asking her to drink a little.

"Thank you." She whispered, turning to look at him. It must have been her dream, she decided, that made his black eyes appear warmer then usual. His hand touched her cheek again, and he left. But this time, she didn't feel alone.

**-------------------------------------------**

By one in morning, Monday morning, Snape was becoming furious. He pacing his office, his sitting room, the potions class room, while clenching and unclenching his fists. He had hardly slept since that Gryffindor witch had invaded on his private turf. He was being so childish, but he wanted her gone. He wanted to sleep on his own bed, not the tacky little cot he had transfigured the leather arm chair into. He'd never been good at transfiguration, and now it angered him even more.

He needed to rest, needed his body to shut down if he wasn't going to kill students the next day in classes. It was hard enough to keep his temper in check around bratty students who thought themselves above potions, and believed that foolish wand waving was all they'd need just to strut through life. Having the added strain of not sleeping for almost 72 hours would drive him to hand out detentions left right and centre.

Not that that would be so bad. Other then the fact that he would have to administer them and arrange the punishment.

Realising it was time once again to give Miss Granger her dosage of potions (which he had brewed more of only hours before), he strode back into the bedroom. He had kept the Gryffindor well supplied with sleeping potions, yet, much to his dismay, he could tell she was still dreaming. Much to his dismay, only because he had to listen to her mumble in her sleep. Once or twice he was sure she had been talking to him, yet he didn't dare respond in case she hadn't been.

Despite his way of applying the potion to parts of her body which he wished beyond the mountains he did not have to, he chose to do it himself still, instead of waking the witch. Now as he settled down on the bed and pulled back the sheets, he prepared to do it again. He worked as fast as he could, making sure he properly applied the potion of course. Her boils had settled slightly, sometimes various ones leaking their pus out onto others. Snape had been so careful to clean them up without disturbing the other boils.

Upon finishing his task, Snape set the potions and the cloth he had been using back upon the bedside table. His body was telling him not to move, that he was comfortable. Pulling the blankets up to cover the girl's body, he leaned back for a moment. Intending only to stretch, and then move off the bed and over to his poor excuse for a cot bed.

When he woke, four hours later, he was still on the bed, next to the Miss Granger.

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Feeling the sleeping potion wearing off, Hermione pushed her way out of her dreams and slowly woke up. With a fright, she realised she was not alone on the bed; there was a heavy warmth just to the left of her. Figuring it was just Professor Snape about to give her more potion, she relaxed again, or as much as she could, with a Professor barley centimetres from her.

After a few moments, she realised that the Professor was making no attempt to clean her boils. It was then that she opened her eyes. Snape was laying on the bed, tucked up in a ball, his black hair partially covering his face. His eyes were closed, and his mouth slightly open, one hand tucked under his face. The other was tucked between his legs, which were drawn up near his chest. Hermione nearly giggled, seeing her Professor asleep.

It took barley a moment for the realisation to hit her though. She and the Potions Master were sharing a bed!

As if he were able to feel the shock running through her body, Snape's eyes slowly opened. He blinked in confusion, before sitting up.

"Shit." He muttered, shaking his head. He stretched, sitting up. Hermione watched him as he shook his head, and his eyes caught sight of her. She looked up at him. "_Shit!_" He muttered, covering his eyes. "Do you need more sleeping potion?" He asked, glancing sideways at her, as though not wanting to look at her.

"Yes please, Professor." She said quietly. Even though she'd just awoken, she was still so exhausted. The dreams seemed so real, tiring her. And the pain was so terrible. At least she could escape the pain in the dreams. Also, she guessed it would be better to let Snape try to deal with sleeping on the bed, next to her, without having to also deal with her awake.

Her eyes followed the billowing robes of the Potions Master as he left the room to fetch her a sleeping potion. Upon awakening, his face had turned to its usual hardened expression, his face curling up into a sneer. Leaning back into the bed, trying as hard as she could not to aggravate her boils. She thought about the face of the man when he had been asleep. For the fist time in her entire life, she had seen Snape look totally relaxed.

Quickly he returned to the bedroom and came over to the bed. Hermione noticed that he moved to the right side of the bed, and knelt beside her to give her the potion. She couldn't hold the flask in her own hands, as they too had boils on them, one of which had burst during her sleep. How badly she needed a shower, she thought, wrinkling her nose. Snape noticed her doing this and she felt regret race through her when she noticed him pull away from her slightly. He must have thought she was wrinkling her nose at him!

Closing her eyes as she swallowed the potion, she surrendered her self to sleep.

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He couldn't believe what he had just let himself do. He had allowed himself to fall asleep on the same bed as a student. Sure, he was exhausted and the bed was comfortable, but it was still no excuse!

After once again administering the potion to the witch, he had stalked out of his private chambers into the Potions classroom to pace. He let out a snort at the fact that to pace, he usually left the classroom, but now he was being driven into it by a student in his bed. A student who he had just foolishly allowed himself to sleep next to.

It had been a long time since Severus Snape had allowed his body to rest so near another's, a feeling his body had obviously sorely missed.

_No!_ He thought, tempted to drive his hand through a desk. He would not allow himself to feel that way, no matter what. The only thing that could be worse then a physical wanting would be an emotional wanting. He could not allow either, would not allow either. She was nothing but an annoying, smart alec, know-it-all _Gryffindor_!

She was also his patient, at least until Minerva McGonagall returned from the Ministry of Magic. He would have to keep caring for her. His lip formed its usual curl. A hand swept through his hair, a hand which he watched as it fluttered down before him.

He had four hours until he had to give Miss Granger more potion, and four hours until classes began for the day. Fifth-years Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. His hand clenched at his desk as he sunk into his black chair that sat behind the desk that allowed him a full view of the dungeons. For four more hours he had to try to occupy his mind, and not think of the Gryffindor still sleeping in his bed.

With a groan, he used his wand to call some parchment to his desk so he could begin writing up a very nasty assignment for the sixth-year class he had after lunch. Another school day, with the extra hardship of looking after a witch he... hated.

Leaning his head against the desk, Snape wished it would all just go away.

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Ooo, there is no better feeling then finding lots of wonderful reviews in your inbox of a morning, thank you all who have taken the time to not only read my story, but also submit such wonderful reviews!

First of all, to **Velvet Storm**, you questions will be answered in the next couple of chapters as Hermione gets better. And yes, Severus is softening up a bit, though it's tough to make such a hard character be soft…but isn't that why we all love him:-D

You're right **SlytherinsDarkAngel07**, Severus is starting to care for Hermione, much as he doesn't want to admit it! I hope you continue to like this story, happy reading!

Wow, **Taste's Like Home**, I'm really glad that you're willing to let my little ooc-ness since you think the rest of the story is great! Hope you continue to read and enjoy this story, I was hoping for something a little different… sounds like I'm achieved it! beams

Aw, **Kiki**, it's great that you're a faithful reader! And rock on the US as well as Australia! Hope you're enjoying your summer… more then I'm enjoying my winter cries at the cold days.

Good to hear that your computer is behaving again **not mad mentally unstable**. Tell it I'll come and give it a whack if it plays up again, lol.

Welcome to the story, **firebanshee**, **DD2 **and **Glassdragon2 **may you continue to enjoy it, along with this chapter!

**NayNay**, I don't mind you correctly my mistakes, I'm ever so glad for it in fact! Thank you so much for your help!

And speaking of help, I've really got to thank **nastygurl**! Thank you sooo much for your kind review, I'm so glad that you think I've come a long way! beams again Yes, Hermione is a little weak atm, but she'll get stronger over the next few chapters. As for editing, I do that, but after I've written a chapter, if I think on it too long, I tend to delete it, rewrite it and then wish I hadn't because it came out worse! Hope this new chapter works for you!

I'm really happy you like reading about the dreams **showmethehobbit**, they will still be appearing, as in this chapter, though Hermione is fully on the road to recovery.

Lol, considering what we see in the actually HP books, **'Mione and Sevvie**, we'll definitely be seeing Snape ooc at times, as he actually cares for someone in these books, not how we usually see him!

**xxx-kisses-xxx**, here is your update, please keep your wet fish and mashed peas away for another time! And I had the chickenpox three times (I know, it's like impossible, but I did it!), so I know how horrible they are!

**JTBJAB**, I share your love for Severus, thank you for your review!

And **Nattie88**, I hope you enjoy this chapter and you like what is indeed to come!


	11. Bathtime

**Chapter Eleven**

When lunch time came around on Monday, Snape forced himself to ascend to the Great Hall to fetch some food before he passed out from hunger. His morning classes had been disastrous as usual. Students simply had no care for such an art as Potions, and when one did, he hated them as well. Miss Granger was a perfect example of this, with her insufferable know-it-all attitude. But he'd rather have a class full of Hermione Grangers then Neville Longbottoms.

Thinking this, Snape let out a small groan as he strode up the corridors towards the Great Hall. He would have the Seventh Year Gryffindors and Slytherins after for his last class of the day. Just what he needed, a class full of pig headed brats who thought themselves above Potions.

Entering the Great Hall with a swoosh of his long black robes; Snape smirked in satisfaction at the reaction he received. The Ravenclaws closest to him drew back, and many of the Hall turned to look at him. They tried to pretend they weren't looking, tried to continue eating their meal as usual, many failing dismally.

Making his way to the Head Table, his eyes sought out the heads of the brats Potter and Weasley. He made his way towards the table, avoiding making sure he didn't want walk with in hearing distance of the pair, who stood and left the Gryffindor table when they saw him. He kept his focused straight ahead, his face fixed into its usual look of pure contempt. Staff looked up from their meals with interest; he had not shown his face in the Great Hall since Friday morning. No doubt McGonagall had informed them of his _misfortune_ in looking after the Gryffindor witch, not that any of them would find it the burden that he did.

Allowing himself to give the staff members a curt nod, he selected some food and placed it on a plate, before turning on his heel and retreating from the Hall. His face snarled automatically when he found Potter and Weasley waiting outside in the Entrance Hall.

"Professor Snape?" Potter asked.

"What?" Snape snapped, making it loud and clear he did not wish to stop.

"We were just wondering how Hermione is, sir." Potter said, making an effort to be civil, as often he did not. So like his father.

"_Miss Granger_ is healing fast." He said. "No doubt she will be back within your classes within a few days." He began to turn on his heel.

After a quick second, Weasley spoke up. "Professor, is there any chance we could… visit her, sir?" He asked.

"That would not be possible." Snape snapped. "She is healing and needs as much rest as possible. She does not need to be kept awake by visitors." He did not bother with a goodbye, simply strode from the Entrance Hall.

Making his way down to his private chambers carrying the plate of food, Snape was glad he had said what he said. Having Miss Granger invading his private chambers was nearly more then he could handle, if Potter and Weasley were to be there, he would surely go insane. Putting up with being in the same room as them in the Great Hall was hard enough on him, therefore having them in such close proximity as his _bedroom_ would be the end of him.

Still angry at them for even suggesting such a thing, Snape entered his private chambers. To his misfortune, he found Miss Granger awake. With a groan he realised she was due for more potion. Her boils were healing at an amazing rate, but her hands still hurt too much for her to give herself a dosage of the much needed potion.

"Professor." She looked up, a small body lost in his black blankets.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" He asked, stiffly, as he placed his lunch down next to the bed. His appetite had somewhat vanished when he had laid eyes on the boils that covered much of the student's face, one of which was leaking.

"Do you think it's at all possible that I could have a bath? Or a shower at the very least?" Hope lit her eyes, he noticed. "These boils are making a bit of a mess."

Silently, Snape swore. Not once had he thought of this. He had assumed that she'd get better, and all he'd have to do is burn his bed. He did not want to let her into his bathroom to wash herself. But then again, he could not let her leave his chambers, so he was left with little choice.

"You may, Miss Granger. However, there is a slight problem." He noticed her eyes became clearer and she looked at him intently. "You will be needing help." He said with a sigh.

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Hermione was miserable; there was no other way to describe it. She was in the most amount of pain she could imagine ever being in, and she was sitting her Snape's bath wearing only her bra and underwear. She'd had to undress in front of him and allow him to help her into the bath. She knew that he already knew her body, as it was he who applied the potion to her boils after all. But she was asleep then, and despite seeing him in her dreams, it didn't seem so bad.

Now it was just nightmarish. Snape couldn't look at her, she noticed, as he helped her gently into the bath. She noted his gentleness in lowering her into the warm water that he had run. He had also added various healing potions to the tub, causing the bath to be more relaxing then usual. He had quickly left the room after doing so, Hermione could only assume that he was changing the bedding. He certainly was not in a good mood, and she could not blame him.

This being her longest time conscious for a while, she had time to think about what was going on. She had read about BlueCloud Fever in a book not all that long ago, so she knew what was happening to _her_¸ but she could not speak for Snape. She wondered why she had been left in his care. Much to her surprise, she was not afraid, he had been so good to her so far, he'd had so many chances to do something to her, and he had not.

However, upon seeing her body and the mess the boils had made of her, tears had spilt down her cheeks. She knew her body wasn't the best in the world, but being covered in the scars of thousands of boils was something she did not wish to have inflicted herself. Splashing the water angrily, she thought about how she'd not wished any of this to happen to her.

"By the splashing of the water, I would assume you are finished with your bath, Miss Granger?" Snape's voice called through the open door.

Feeling tears welling up in her throat, Hermione did not trust herself to answer him. She took to glancing around his bathroom to distract herself. Like his bedroom, the walls were plain stone. The bath was a stone tub that stood against the far wall, not the room was very big. A shower head hung over it. Next to the tub stood a sink and tap, above which was a mirror. Across from these was a simple toilet. It gave off a dark and foreboding feel, which at the moment the young witch found very comforting. It was a very Snape like room, as were his entire quarters.

"Miss Granger?" Snape appeared in the doorway, and Hermione caught what might have been worry on his face. "Are you ready to return to your rest?" Hermione almost laughed at the way he put it – she knew he was not game enough to mention anything about "bed" and her name in the same sentence.

"Yes, Professor." She said, and allowed him to help her out of the bath, trying not to cry out in pain as the boils on her feet touched the hard flood. Then with a fright she realised that she was not touching the floor anymore. She turned her head to see Snape pointing his wand at her. He was levitating her, to stop the pain from rushing through her body, as he had done on the way into the bath. He was also courteous enough to cast a drying spell so that she could slip straight back into the freshly made bed.

It was with much surprise that Hermione found herself resting against the softest cotton she'd ever experienced. She looked up as Snape presented her with a potion, he remained silent.

"Thank you," she whispered, after taking the potion. She found his black eyes studying her face as she leaned back, willing the potion to overtake her.

"Sleep well." Was the last thing she heard before her mind was flooded by the bright light of the blue sky. Drifting down so that her feet touched the soft grass beneath the trees, she sat down. Looking up, she saw Professor Snape still standing over her. He watched her a moment, his huge wings waving gently.

Much to her shock, he gave her a small smile, and reached down to touch her brown hair, before he turned and walked away, folding his wings tight to his body.

Unwillingly, Hermione returned his smile, even if it was to his back.


	12. Showers and Sights

Hello all! Sorry these last two chapter have been a bit short! Hope you enjoy this one!

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**Chapter Twelve **

As hard as he tried to resist the fact, Snape did have to go and teach Seventh-Years Potions, for the first time since Miss Granger had passed out, boils forming on her face. Oh, how he loathed the very thought of striding out into the classroom and facing the class of snot nosed brats, who thought that just because they were in their final year, they could do anything.

He especially did not wish to see Potter or Weasley today, after so crudely denying them a visit to their _best friend_. Yet he did not regret that. He simply regretted allowing them into his Potions class for their final year. But at the start of the year, he didn't know what he was doing. It wasn't as if he'd admitted them into the class however, Minerva had made the choice. He had simply not had a good excuse to throw them out of their arses yet. Nor had he been able to find a good reason to throw Neville out along with them, as Miss Granger had found more discreet ways to whisper instructions into the idiot's ears.

Perhaps today would be the day, he thought with a smirk. Miss Granger would not be able to help the twits; he could catch them out, and toss thew out the door without a second thought. Oh, what a relief it would be!

Allowing the class to file past him, smirking at the way they fell dead silent the moment they set eyes on him, Snape noticed Potter and Weasley sulking even more then they usually did when entering his classroom. He sneered down at them as he made his way to the front of the room to stand behind his desk.

"Today you will be making a most difficult potion, so I suggest you all keep your minds on the task at hand if you wish to live beyond this class." Snape sneered at the class, tapping the board so that the instructions for the day's class appeared there. He then stood looking at the class before him before snapping in loud clear voice, "Begin!"

Oh, how he despised attempting to teach this potion to a class of such dunderheads, but he had little choice, seeing as it was part of the Ministry of Magic's class requirements and often showed up on the NEWTs, which the students would be facing in a little more then a month's time.

Unwillingly, he let his mind wander to Miss Granger, and wondered how she would deal with missing almost a week's worth of classes by the time she was back on her feet. He scowled to himself… what did he care what happened to the little brat? As long as she didn't have to repeat Seventh Year because of this incident, he did no care. He knew that she would not fail in anything, and would most likely repeat top marks in absolutely everything; she _was_ a brilliant student, though he'd never tell her that.

Strolling around the dark and dank dungeons, Snape sneered at several students and the poor excuses they had for the potion they were supposed to be brewing, the Living Death potion, which allowed the drinker to appear dead for many hours. However, if not brewed correctly, the potion had many consequences. One of which that the drinker actually died. Another was when in the middle of brewing the potion –

BANG!

- The potion would explode.

Snape did not even have to turn around to know which fucking idiotic student had just exploded his potion, causing Living Death Potion to spray right across the room. The squeaks of terror said it all.

"Neville Longbottom," he said, turning around carefully, slowing, his voice dropping to a dangerously low level as he attempted not to pull his wand out and kill the foolish student who stood before his ruined cauldron. "I expected nothing else then for you to ruin this potion. And my classroom! Fifty points from Gryffindor! Detention for the rest of the week with Filch!" His icy voice rose to a roar. "GET OUT! ALL OF YOU!"

The lack of food and slept sweep through his body as he watched the potion drenched students race for the door. He knew the potion would not affect them in a negative way, but they'd have to figure that out themselves. He felt the potion seeping into his hair and knew he'd better shower quickly to clean himself up. He shouted a quick clean spell at the deserted classroom before storming into his chambers.

He was tempted to storm right through, but he decided against waking Miss Granger. Even though this was _her_ fault! If she hadn't of gotten so ill, he wouldn't be so damn tired, so damn hungry and she might have been able to stop bloody Longbottom from destroying the classroom for the ninth time in his time at Hogwarts.

_When will that foolish boy learn?_ Snape seethed, slamming his wand down on his cot and kicking his boots off. Miss Granger muttered something in her sleep, so he retreated to the bathroom. Quickly undressing, he flung his clothes into the basket he'd had a House Elf place there, one that automatically transferred his clothes to the school laundry. Naked, he turned the shower on and stood under the hot jet stream. He reached for his shampoo and began the tedious job of scrubbing the potion from his hair.

He was glad this was the last class of the day; he'd surely kill the next student who infuriated in his classroom today. He wondered briefly if they planned to drive him insane in his own lessons. With a snort, he didn't dare doubt that annoying brats such as Potter and Weasley would surely come up with such plans. Already he knew of a few incidents where they had purposefully wrecked havoc in his classroom, unfortunately he couldn't pin the blame on them with solid evidence, much to his disgust.

With a growl, he turned the shower off, and stepped out, grabbing a thick black towel from the rack that sat next to the toilet. Quickly drying himself, he reached for his wand to perform a drying spell on his hair. Much to his dismay, his wand was not there. He remembered throwing it onto the cot he had made for himself. How foolish, he'd not picked it up.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Snape lowered his clean face into his hands. Here he was, stranded in his bathroom, with nothing but a towel, and _no wand_! He could not function without his wand. Not only that, but he'd not brought any fresh clothing into the bathroom with him, they were all in the wardrobe in his bedroom. Barely a metre from where a _student_ lay sleeping in his bed. Oh, he could summon them, couldn't he? _If he had his fucking wand!_

Standing up, Severus stomped a bare foot in an act of very childish behaviour. How did he get himself into this mess? And what was he going to do? While he did not enjoy working with his wand, there were several things he could not do without it… and summoning clothing from his bedroom was one of them. Wrapping the towel around his lower half, he knew he had to bite the bullet.

Taking a quick peek out of the door to make sure Miss Granger was still asleep, he stepped, wearing nothing but a towel, out into his bedroom.

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Hermione was not as asleep as Professor Snape thought. She was just rousing when she heard his swearing from the bedroom. She'd seen him stomp by about ten minutes before, flinging his wand and boots away. Trying not to giggle for that would surely hurt more, Hermione realised what was happening. Snape was stuck in the bathroom with no clothes!

Deciding to be polite and shutting her eyes and feigning sleep when he peeked into the room, Hermione could not help but open her eyes a crack when the Potions Master stepped half naked into the bedroom. It was only fair, he'd seen her naked!

Although the light was very dim, she could his body quite well. And what she saw did not please her. While it was quite obvious that the Professor was a thin man, she was almost sickened by the sight that meant her eyes. Snape was thin to the point where she probably could have counted his ribs if she'd had enough light. His arms were bones, and Hermione could not help but wonder when the last time was that he'd had a good meal. He was too skinny to be eating right, or sleeping right, or doing anything right.

_What had happened to him?_

Upon thinking this, Hermione already knew the answer. She became so worried about him. But when he looked as though he was going to turn around and glance at her, she gently shut her eyes properly, hoping he wouldn't be able to tell that she was indeed awake and worrying. As the obviously embarrassed man slunk back into the bathroom, clutching a new set of robes, Hermione wondered if there was any way she could help her Professor, surely she owed him for all the help he had given her.

Opening her eyes to study the canopy that hung above her head, she wondered what she could do to help. She had to do something.

She was so lost in thought that she did not notice the bathroom door open, or Snape step out into the darkened bedroom. She did notice when his voice rang quietly, almost ashamed through the chamber.

"You were awake, weren't you?"

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As it's getting late and I have school in the morning, I won't reply to any of your lovely reviews, will do that tomorrow, I pwomise! I wuv you all, thank you SO much for all the wonderful feedback you're giving me!


	13. Just A Stroll In The Air

This is probably my longest chapter yet, and also the longest list of replies to reviews, just because I've been missing them the last couple of days. With a bit of luck, chapter 14 will be up tonight! Enjoy this one for now!

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**Chapter Thirteen**

Try as he may, Snape could not help but let the horribly embarrassed feeling creep through his system. She'd seen him, she had been awake when he'd left the bathroom. How could he not tell? Oh, he was just so distracted! Smoothing his robes, he turned to face the Gryffindor witch.

"You saw," he stated, looking at her disfigured face.

He watched her as she tried to grasp for words that just weren't coming. He knew she was just as embarrassed as he was. "I-I… I didn't mean to look." She whispered.

Snape knew he had no right to be angry with her, he was the one who had stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. Letting out a breath, he forced his anger onto its fraying leash. "It's perfectly fine, Miss Granger." He said, in his cold voice. "It was not your fault that you awoke at such an awkward time." He almost choked the words – here he was apologising to a student! "Would you like some more sleeping potion?"

"No, thank you, Professor." She whispered, much to his surprise. "What is the time?"

"It's four thirty, Miss Granger."

"Oh…" she looked thoughtful. "What potion would I have done if I were in class today, sir?"

Her question threw him off guard completely, though when he thought about it, it was really hardly surprising. Any other student would have been thrilled for the chance to have missed a class, and here she wanted to know what she missed. He took a breath and answered her question.

"Your… classmates made a start on the Living Death potion." He noticed the way her eyes lit up at the thought of brewing this potion. "However, I must highly emphasis the usage of the word "start"." He growled, sitting on his small cot bed. "Your presence was quite… sorely missed by your classmates today."

He watched in amazement as she giggled at him. "My guess is Neville blew it up because he added too much unicorn hair to the mix, or too soon."

It did not fail to surprise him that Miss Granger knew exactly what was in such potion, or she knew what would happen if something were to go wrong with it. He had come to expect such behaviour from the Gryffindor, although in s classroom, he far from appreciated her hand constantly waving in the air at him.

"Correct, Miss Granger." He said in his silky tones. "He destroyed the classroom… again." _I'm almost beginning to appreciate your help_, he thought, but did not dare say. "Perhaps, when you are feeling better, you could demonstrate your ability to brew the potion. It is one that often shows up on your NEWTs." He said quite stiffly, not believing the words that were coming out his mouth.

He saw her smile at him again. "Yes, that would be good; I'd hate it if I were to get it wrong…"

Snape almost wanted to tell her that she shouldn't worry. After all, in all her seven years at Hogwarts, she was yet to make a mistake in brewing a potion. But he did not. Instead, more foolish words tumbled out his mouth.

"Perhaps you would also like me to fetch some of your homework from today. If you cannot complete it due to your… illness, perhaps you would at least like to know what is required of you when you are fully recovered." _If only to occupy your silly little mind while you stay _the voice in his head tried to add. Unfortunately, he could not bring himself to believe it.

"Yes, thank you, that would be greatly appreciated." She said. Looking down at her hands, he watched her bite her lip.

"Sir?" She asked, quietly. "I'm not entirely sure if I want to know the answer to this… but am I going to be scarred because of this?"

He turned the thought over in his head. From what he had read about BlueCloud Fever, and also what he had seen first hand on her body, "No, I don't believe you will, unless you scratch the boils. The potion seems to be clearing them away quite quickly, leaving almost no marks."

She sighed in relief.

"Perhaps you would also like your potion now?" Snape suggested, knowing it was nearing the time when he would have to apply more potion to her awful boils. When she agreed, he fetched the potion and sat by her as she drank and slowly drifted into sleep. Carefully applying the potion to her body, he could not help but feel extra embarrassed about touching her now, even if it was to help her heal.

She'd seen him at his absolute worst. Yet he couldn't help buy admire how well she'd taken it.

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Feeling too tired to move, Hermione leaned back against a tree trunk. She was worried about what she had seen, worried about the man who sat a metre or three away from her, he too leaning against a tree trunk. He'd just given her what she know realised was potion to help soothe her pain and heal her boils.

His touch had been again neither impersonal nor sexual, but he felt his hesitation. Why didn't she deny being awake when he had entered the room, tell him that she'd seen nothing? Because that would have been lying, she scolded herself.

Knowing that while she could watch him, he would only see her sleeping, Hermione allowed her gaze to travel in his direction, and was most surprised to see him looking back at her, a strange look worn into his features. Oh, how she longed to know what he was thinking, see if he hated her for seeing what she did. But she she'd seen and she'd worry about him.

Finally, he stood and left the room, leaving her to her own thoughts.

While here in the dreams she had no boils, she was so annoyed at the fact that her body could not properly rest. Oh, how she longed just to lie down and sleep for awhile, to shut down for a period. She could not do anything here except sit, and maybe soar around. Once or twice frustration overcame her as she couldn't do anything but these two things, and she longed to read a book, or just see Harry and Ron. But she only saw Professor Snape.

Resigning to the idea that proper sleep would not come for quite some time, Hermione allowed herself to indulge in a favourite past time of hers; mentally reading _Hogwarts: A History_.

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During dinner, Snape quietly asked all the staff members what homework they had set for their Seventh-Year classes today. Although they all insisted that Miss Granger be waved of homework during her illness, Snape would not hear a bar of it.

"We cannot allow students to begin thinking that by being sick, they may simply forget about their homework," he retorted, with a sneer. "Especially Seventh-Years."

They had told him he was being too hard on the poor girl, but complied, handing over the assignments they have given out today. Only Snape knew that it was for the poor girl's good, she'd fret if she left her homework for days on end. Thought he wasn't entirely sure how she was going to do it.

Striding back into the dungeon after dinner (which he had actually managed to eat a little of), he found Miss Granger asleep. Shifting some of his mess away, Snape set her assignments down on the bedside table, before moving into his office to correct the weekend homework from his morning classes.

When he finished writing comments and suggestions, neither of which were ever very polite, on the essays, he moved to make more of the potion which Miss Granger required for her healing. First of all, an impulse made him check on the young witch. Much to his surprise, she was once again awake, despite only being asleep for three hours. The sleeping potion should have lasted about four hours.

"You're awake." He said flatly, approaching the bed.

"I couldn't stay in the forest anymore." She whispered, closing her eyes. "Maybe it's time I left there for good?" She asked, looking up in her his eyes.

Snape did his best to hide his confusion at this comment. The forest, he wondered. "Would you like some more potion?" He asked, gesturing towards the flasks that sat on the bed side table.

"No, thank you, not yet, Professor." She said in a small voice. "I was wondering if I could take a walk."

"A walk?" Snape snorted. "Where would you go, in this state?" He knew why she wanted to walk; it was awfully annoying to be lying in a bed day after day.

Almost smiling, she looked up at him. "I meant, just around the room, Professor." She said. "Just to loosen my muscles."

Snape thought on this for a moment. The boils were healing very quickly; perhaps she could walk without hurting her self too much. Then an idea crossed his mind. "How about, Miss Granger, I levitate you." Seeing her mouth open to say something, he quickly cut her off. "As in, you move like you are walking, allowing your body to get the exercise, but you will actually be doing no harm to the boils under your feet." He almost allowed himself to be quite pleased that he had come up with such an idea.

He watched as Hermione considered it. A bright look in her eyes was a response. "That would work quite well, thank you Professor."

Daringly, he raised an eyebrow at her. "Why would I say it, if it would not work?" He asked, keeping himself from snapping at her, his voice a gentle tease. He was rewarded for his efforts by a smile, which much to his disgust warmed him.

Gently, he helped her out of bed, and quickly cast the spell to allow him to keep her levitated. He sat on the bed and allowed his wand to follow her around the room, keeping her level as she carefully moved around his bedroom. After five minutes of doing this, he called for her to stop.

"That would be enough, I believe, Miss Granger. I do have other things to do."

"Thank you for your help, Professor." She whispered, and he helped her back into the bed.

He gestured to the small stack of papers beside her on the table. "I took the liberty of gathering your homework for you," he said in a quiet voice. "Perhaps you would like some help with completing it, considering the condition of your hands?" He raised an eyebrow at her again.

He was pleased with the look of shock that she did not manage to conceal flittered across her face. "Y-you'd do that, s-sir?" She asked. "I thought you had other things to be doing?"

He allowed his face to darken at this comment. "I do Miss Granger, but the quicker we get your work done, the quicker I can return to my doings," he responded, hoping that it sounded plausible.

His comment was greeted with a smile, and sitting on the bed, he called several books from his many bookcases to the bed. It was much to his surprise that he found himself enjoying the time, reading to the young witch and helping her answer her questions. Several times, he found himself just wanting to test the depth on knowledge she held.

She'd do well in anything she went into, for he found her knowledge on everything from Potions to Astronomy nothing like that which he'd ever found in a student before.

After leaving her to sleep, and applying the potion, Snape left the room with a sigh. It really was a pity she was so annoying.

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Okay, since I've been so naughty and not replied to any reviews from the last two chapters, I figured I'd better make up for it now! I didn't like leaving reviews unanswered, but I've been so busy with school and work. Yuck!

AH! I just realised that I have over 100 reviews! –Squeals in excitement and runs around hugging everyone who reviews—You guys are amazing, thank you so much!

First of all, to **not mad mentally unstable**, I'm glad that your computer has decided to behave itself, and hope that it still is! That threat to it's is still holding! And I figured that Snape should sleep all curled up, since he's a very closed off person! Glad you thought it was cute! OH, and I'm really glad you liked the bath scene, was a bit scary trying to write that one! What did you think of the shower?

You're dead right, **Shdwcat27**, poor tired Snape has no idea what's coming for him! And yes, he is just a little embarrassed about what happened!

In all honesty, **SlytherinsDarkAngel107**¸ I don't think many of us would mind being bedded by Snape! And yes, he does like her, it's just a matter of admitting it to himself! And yeah, it's actually well over half way through my school year :P Since it's middle of winter for me, being an Aussie and all, lol. I get like three months off over November – January. But I'll get until March off this time around, since I'm off to uni next year, EEK! Thanks for the hugs!

Yeah, he is all cute, isn't he **Taste's Like Home**! Though not toooo cute, gotta love the dark and cold side of him sometimes too!

Hermione's well on the road to recovery, **Snape14**¸and it'll be interesting to find out what happens when she is fully recovered! ;-) And yeah, I'm in school, check out what I said two reviews up about school for me, it's a pest really…. Despite getting so much time off over Summer!

Yay, glad to see you're still reading and enjoying **Kiki**! Your reviews are just adorable, pwease keep reviewing!

Ooh, **little-starling**, you made me blush! Yes, like you I'm most drawn to Severus, just because he's so shut up! You'll love the HP books, enjoy reading them! Ooo, and do keep reading Fan-Fics as well, they're great too!

Also, to **Erin**, welcome back to the site, hope you like what you read!

My birthday:-O **NayNay**, you're too kind! Thank you for picking up my mistakes, have corrected what mistakes you found!

Oh, no, I'm so sorry for picking that up, **jenonymous**! I will fix that, I can't believe I missed that! I feel so stupid, sorry for not picking your humour! –feels terrible—

I know what you mean about the fridge **JTBJAB**, I've got an awful habit of doing silly little things like that. And yes, though Snape clearly does too (well, at least in my story!). And no, she won't be scarred, like I've just said.

I'm really glad you like my idea, **blackthornroses**! I simply love your name!

Hi there **Via, kingsmeadroad, stargazer156, snapes saviour, tragic fantasy, Transylvanian **and **deadlyabyss12**! Welcome to my little story, hope you enjoy it!

Hope you enjoyed the new chapter **Nattie88**¸and that the babysitting went well!

--blushes—Thanks **glassdragon2**, good to hear you're like it all!

Hey there, **Hprox4ever**. Thanks for reading! I just gotta say that Snape is not going on about the fact that it's a mudblood who is touching his things, it's more about the fact that a female student, from a completely different house to his, is taking up his bed, in his private chambers. He doesn't wish to use a bed that a student has laid in, leaking pus all over:-P


	14. A Revisit

A rather short chapter, my apologies!

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**Chapter Fourteen**

In the early hours of Tuesday morning, Hermione woke. She wasn't entirely sure what spurred to her life, but for the first time since last Friday… she felt good. She's just _slept_, properly slept, with the forest not appearing in her mind. While she was joyful for this, the bleakness of sleep almost made her afraid. But it was better then sitting there with nothing to do and a whole world around her which she could not seem to explore.

Feeling uncomfortable, she tried to wiggle around so that she was comfortable again without popping any of the frustrating boils that adorned her body. Her body still ached terribly, and the boils left a horrible burning feeling when they popped, allowing her to believe they would burn right through the sheets. She did not allow herself to cry from the pain though, or she'd be a constant wreck.

In the darkness, she could make out the form of Professor Snape on a small cot bed. She felt terrible for taking up his bed, more so after seeing his thin form. But he'd never dare sleep in his bed as long as she was around. Frustration ripped through her body. Why did this have to happen to her? And why did she have to end up in the care of Professor Snape? Putting it down to the fact that she'd passed out in his classroom, and he was the Potions Master and it seemed that Potions were what was healing her. She couldn't help but be pleased when she noted that her boils were half the size they were they other day.

Sighing quietly, she lay in the bed, willing herself to go back to sleep. She didn't want to wake Snape up so she could have some more sleeping potion, but she was desperate to get back to sleep. She did not enjoy being awake in the middle of the night in the dungeon. Closing her eyes, she lay still for a moment.

When she opened her eyes, light was flooding her sight. But it was not the burning sunlight of the dreams she had almost become accustomed to. Clouds hung above the tree tops, thick, grey clouds.

"No…" Hermione whispered to herself, before standing and wrapped her arms around her self. _This was not going to happen again_! She drew herself together and rocketed through the trees and into the sky. When she felt the searing pain from where the tree branches had scraped her arms, she began to scream.

"NO! Don't let this happen again!" She yelled, spinning around and around, trying to find some piece of light, something that would tell her that this wasn't going to hurt her again.

A crack of lighting high above her head said that it would.

"I won't let this happen, don't let this happen!" She shrieked to no one, knowing that now she was above the trees, she could not go back without ripping her body apart with more boils. "Don't do this to me!" She screamed.

Suddenly Snape burst through the canopy, his black robes swirling as his huge black wings flared to give him balance. "Miss Granger! Come back!" He roared, grabbing her wrist and yanking her towards himself. Feeling no choice but to comply, she squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them again, she was back in the dark dungeon room.

Pushing hair out of her face, ignoring the way her body was racked with pain by this movement, she realised Snape was only centimetres from her, his face filled with fear and his hands gripped her shoulders once again.

"Don't let the storm hurt me!" She shrieked at him, trembling.

His eyes caught hers and she noticed his relief that she was awake. "It's okay Miss Granger, the storm won't hurt you, you're safe now." He removed his hands and went to get off the bed.

"No!" She shrieked. "Don't leave me, it'll get me!" She reached for his hand, feeling tears well up in her throat. She'd do anything – _anything _-to make sure the storm did not come back.

His black eyes found hers, and again she could not read them.

"Nothing will hurt you." He said quietly. "I'll just get you a potion." He strode from the room, leaving Hermione too terrified to close her eyes. When he returned, she almost refused the sleeping potion, turning her head away from it. It was when she saw the almost pleading look in his eyes that she drank. Much to her surprise, after she'd taken some, he took a mouthful himself. As he re-corked the bottle, Hermione watched him, terrified he'd leave her alone and the storm would get her.

She could hardly believe it when he stretched out on the bed next to her. "Sleep, Miss Granger. You're safe." He said, turning away from her.

_Not in my dreams_, she thought, before the potion took effect.

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Groaning, Snape shook himself awake and stretched from his curled position. He was most disgusted with himself for giving into that girl, and sleeping atop his bed. While his body was more soothed by his own bed, his senses were on high alert due to a female body sleeping barely centimetres from him. Working hard, he blamed it all on the fact that it was just because she was a female, no other reason.

Why had he allowed himself to do it, to fall asleep next to her? _Because she needed someone there, and he was her only choice_, he thought. But he paused, when he realised that he didn't care half as much as he could have. He should have woken up feeling foul about sleeping where he did… but he didn't. It was only because he was sleeping on his bed, he decided.

Knowing that he had woken because it was time to administer Miss Granger her healing potions, he quickly set about the task. Every now and then he had to stop and look at the girl who lay so peacefully beside him, trusting him to take care of her. If in her shoes, Snape admitted that he would probably trust her, if she were his carer. She was so intelligent, and not only that, but her ability applied to practical tasks as well. He resolved to test her potion making one time, in his private lab, without giving her any help, or instructions. He wanted to see what she could do.

After cleaning the boils, Snape stifled a yawn. It was barely five in the morning, he usually awoke at seven. He had two more hours, but where would he spend them? He could always move to his cot… should probably move to his cot…

But as his head dropped to the pillow under his head, beside his patient, he knew he wasn't going to.

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Thankfully, Hermione did not dream for the rest of the night, she managed to stay in the sweet, empty blackness that was her slumber. However, on awakening, she was most surprised to see Professor Snape curled up beside her again.

As though sensing her awakening, Snape's eyes opened and he let out a yawn, stretching and flopping lazily on the bed, very unlike Snape. Clearly, he had forgotten about the witch I his bed, and Hermione was almost amused by the way his head snapped to the side when realisation hit him and he checked if she was still there or not.

"Good morning, Miss Granger." Hermione nearly died when he said this, sounding so calm or casual. This was not the Snape she knew, not even close. What had happened?

She watched him stand, stretch again and move to his wardrobe. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed her eyes following him. "Do you really think I'm going to forget these again after yesterday's episode?" He said with a sneer, before disappearing into his bathroom.

_Yesterday's episode…_ Hermione thought. But she wasn't thinking Snape leaving his bathroom naked in front of her, but of him sitting on the bed with her, reading to her and testing her knowledge. Although she'd never dare mention it, she'd seen the approval in his eyes when she answered a question in depths hardly known to the average witch or wizard. She knew she'd impressed it. And she'd felt on cloud nine, simply having someone to sit and talk to about her work, who didn't gape at her like a stunned fish when she used words longer then 6 letters long.

Mentally, she growled at herself. It didn't matter if she enjoyed the lesson last night, in a day or two she'd be back to _normal_ and things would return to being normal. And Snape would be back to teasing and taunting and snarling in potions whenever he got the chance.

Raising an arm to examine the fresh boils that had appeared thanks to the nightmare from the previous night's sleep, she wondered just how long it was going to take for her to be completely okay. She couldn't afford to let dreams like occur anymore, couldn't afford to be put back any longer. While it meant more intellectually stimulating conversations, it also meant not seeing her friends, staying in these dark dungeon rooms and getting further behind in her work.

Not something she was willing to risk.

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No answers to reviews, I'm dying here. lol


	15. A Return

Just before I go to bed, here's another chapter for you all to read and hopefully enjoy!

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**Chapter Fifteen**

Tuesday passed in a haze of anger for Harry and Ron, neither of whom had seen their best friend since Friday. It was infuriating to know that she was sick, that she was in the castle, _that she was in the care of Snape_, and they could not see her. They worried endlessly about her welfare, what she was doing, if Snape was treating her right.

"Oh, why isn't McGonagall here!" Ron snapped after the final lesson of the day. "Maybe then, she'd force Snape into letting us see her." Together the pair strode into the Great Hall, where their eyes instantly scanned the Head Table, looking for any signs of McGonagall or Snape. Once again, they were absent.

Minerva McGonagall was in the school grounds however, she had returned from the Ministry of Magic not a few moments before, after spending the last few days discussing with the Minister what changes should be made to the school's curriculum. Her first port of call upon returning to Hogwarts was the office of Severus Snape, to check on the young Gryffindor student she had left in his care.

Her insistent knocking at his chambers doors were answer a whole two minutes after she arrived, making her wonder if Snape was even there. But he answered the door, looking as tired as Minerva had ever seen him. In one had he held a green cloth, dark circles surrounding his even darker eyes.

"Minerva. What a pleasure to _finally_ see you." He stepped aside to allow her entrance to his chambers.

Choosing not to rise to his bait, Minerva chose to address the issue at hand. "Hello, Severus. How is Miss Granger doing?" Not waiting for an answer, she walked towards the bedroom. She stopped in the doorway when he saw the young witch, almost lost amongst the black blankets that adorned the bed. Her face, oh her face, was covered with boils, every inch. Closing her eyes for a moment, Minerva took a breath. Oh, she knew what the poor child was going through; she herself had been through it too. And it was horrifying, in every way. She could only commend Snape on looking after her.

"When did she go through the storm?" Minerva whispered, feeling the man's presence to her right.

"Saturday." He answered shortly. "It was horrible… I helped her out of it."

Studying Miss Granger's face, all she could say was "you did well." She knew how hard the storm was, knew the only way out of it was for someone to be there to help you. She couldn't help but wonder how hard it had been on Snape, but seeing the withdrawn look upon his face, she did not dare ask.

"I just gave her more potion." Snape said, setting the cloth down on the bedside table, where three potions also sat. "I've also been brewing more, and reading about her… condition."

Minerva considered the man before her. "Now that she has passed through the storm, we could move her to my office, I might be able to take it from here."

"No!" Snape was quick to jump in, shocking her and what seemed to be himself as well. "She's having relapses," he explained quickly. "One this morning and one about half an hour ago." His nostrils flared. "It would be unwise to move her, I believe."

Trying hard to conceal her shock, Minerva turned her attention back to Miss Granger. "She can see everything around her, sometimes. Even when she sleeps." She looked sharply at the Professor. "Did you know that? No one is sure how, but sometimes, you can see it all, more often then not. Sometimes, though her body will rest, her mind will not, and she will see what she wants to see." Minerva watched his nostrils flare again, and wondered just what Miss Granger might have seen while 'sleeping' in this chamber.

"Yes, I read about that." Snape replied. "I have been most careful." He raised an eyebrow to her while smoothing the front of his robes, as though asking her to prove him wrong.

After a quiet moment, Minerva answered. "I do not doubt that."

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Snape was pleased when Minerva took her leave from his chambers, he did not need two females in his presence, in his bedroom. He was also pleased, however, that she would arrange for meals to be sent down to the dungeons for both himself and the student. Apparently Minerva thought it best to try and get some food into Miss Granger. Snape was thankful for this, as it meant that he did not have to face the idiotic students of the school then beyond his classroom.

Sitting on his leather couch, he slowly chewed his roast pork that had been sent down, trying to work out why he had been so insistent on having Miss Granger stay here instead of handing over the healing duties to Minerva. His mind tried to tell him that it was simply because he wanted to prove himself the able Professor.

Somewhere else in his mind told him that he did it because he was beginning to care.

Scoffing, Snape swallowed his tea, and with a flick of the wand sent the plate off to the kitchens. Care? He hardly knew the meaning of the word. No one cared for him, he cared for no one. Pausing, he had to admit that perhaps he was wrong in saying that. Minerva cared for him; she'd given him his job back. No, no, she gave that back out of guilt of what had happened to him. Racking his brains for a name, he dismissed everyone who could possibly care for him, there was no one. And it would stay that way, he thought as he moved into his office to begin marking papers.

Although he wasn't entirely sure whether it would be by his own choice or foolish actions.

Sighing, he settled himself into working for awhile, one ear listening out for Miss Granger as she lay, healing, two rooms away. He had told her earlier that day then in the evening, when she woke, he would sit with her again, and help her with her work. His mind rationalised this by telling him that he simply wanted to prove to the young witch that while her bank of knowledge was impressive, his was even more so. Also, it gave him a chance to revisit some of the easier subjects, subjects he had thought beneath him for a long time.

By nine in the evening, Miss Granger still had not stirred, and it was time for Snape to apply the potion. With a sigh, he moved towards the bedroom, and placed himself on the edge of the bed.

Much to his horror, just as his hands slid the cloth up her shirt to cleanse the boils on her chest, the witch woke. Not sure what to do, he froze, his hand almost covering one of her full breasts. Then he remembered what Minerva had told him. _She can see everything around her, sometimes. Even when she sleeps_. Knowing that even in her sleep, Miss Granger would have known his touch, he managed to thaw his hand.

Her eyes sought his and when he dared to meet them, it was only to watch them close again. Feeling his pale complexion begin to tinge with red, he hurriedly finished cleaning her up. It was utterly amazing how her boils were clearing up. He gave it another 24 hours and she'd almost be completely clean. But for now, he kept playing nurse.

"How are you feeling, Miss Granger?" He asked in a professional tone as his hands and cloth quickly began to move down her legs.

"Sore." She managed to croak out, seeming not at all bothered by waking up to finding her Professor almost pawing her. If he were anyone else other then himself, he could have maybe allowed himself to be impressed by her lack of response to the situation.

Finishing up his cleaning, Snape moved to sit by her again, corking one flask and opening another. "No," she said, turning her head. "I don't want to go back to sleep yet."

"I'm not going to make you," Snape said, attempting to sound cross. "This is one of the healing potions I've been using on you." Unable to stop himself, he launched into telling her about it, about how it was brewed, what ingredients as he fed her the potion. She listening with absolute attention on him as he even told her how it was discovered. Upon finishing, he felt like a moron for babbling. Yet he was greeted by a smile. Oh, how he tried not to let that affect him.

"Would you like to try… walking, again, Miss Granger?" He asked.

Her eyes lowered for a moment, and he wondered what he had done wrong. "Um, Professor… I was wondering…" she appeared to be having a hard time saying whatever she wanted to say. "Could you please call me Hermione?" She flushed. "Just for a little bit. Hearing the words 'Miss Granger' is getting a bit tiring."

"I could always call you Miss Know-It-All." He said, arching an eyebrow.

Much to his surprise, the young witch giggled at this. "Anything is better then 'Miss Granger'." She said, still watching his face as though waiting for his real reaction.

"Well, don't ever become a Professor." Was all he said, managing to squirm his way out of giving her an answer. Again, the Slytherin in him came in handy. "Now, come on, no more sitting on your behind." He slipped back into professor mode, although he was gentle in helping her out of his bed.

Noticing her exasperated expression, he rolled his eyes. As Slytherin as he may be, she was a Gryffindor, and wasn't willing to go down without a fight. Inwardly, he let himself smile. He'd give her a fight to the end, and he still wasn't going to tell her.

After all, she was the know-it-all, shouldn't she know already?

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Bit of a silly ending, but it's leading up to next chapter!

Oh, and **Kiki**, I'm not really dying… just really, really tired! I just keep writing because it keeps me relaxed during school and things. And you'd really do a fanart for this story? Oh, that'd be wonderful, thank you!

To everyone else, goodnight!


	16. Maps and Games

_Pre-warning, Snape is quite OOC in this chapter. But I've written him like this simply because as a very kind reviewer pointed out to me, we do not see Snape when he is trapped in his rooms with a student who's ill and playing games with him, so we don't really know how he'd act. Hope you like the way I've written him! Pwease send me friendly flames if you don't, LOL_

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**Chapter Sixteen**

Harry and Ron did not believe that it was possible for potions to be any more unbearable then it was. But during Wednesday's class, they discovered just how wrong they were. Snape was as foul of a mood then ever, and he completely ignored Harry and Ron, passing their cauldrons with a sneer. They knew it would be completely hopeless even to ask him if Hermione was okay. Instead they chose to spend the class throwing dark looks at the door to Snape's office.

It was painful to be so close to their friend, but never get to see her. Their pain showed through their potions, which were more pitiful then ever. Twenty minutes into the class, Snape swooped past their cauldrons, and with a flick of his wand, rid them of the potion. He did not need to comment, Harry and Ron already knew how miserable their potion was looking. But now they found themselves faces with the prospect of another hour and a half of potions with nothing to do, and knowing Hermione was so close…

Once upon a time, Harry had tried so hard not to look at that door, not to think about the slimy things in jars that adorned the walls of the dark office. Now he longed to fling it open, and rush through it, through Snape's private quarters and into the bedroom, to see if Hermione had been harmed.

The night before, long after the other seventh-year boys had fallen asleep, Harry had been restless. As he often did when he could not sleep, he pulled the Marauder's Map into his lap to see what the occupants of Hogwarts were doing with their time. Only a fool would assume all would be sleeping. Harry had often see many of his classmates sneaking about the castle, and had been forced to smother giggles when he saw the little figures of "Argus Filch" "Mrs Norris", or "Professor Snape" descend on the students. But tonight, only Argus Filch and Mrs Norris seemed to be prowling the castle.

Suddenly it dawned on him. Why hadn't he thought of it earlier, to check on Hermione through the map? He knew that he couldn't know if she was harmed or anything, but he could at least know where she was, and if Snape was with her. His eyes grew wide when he saw the figure marked "Hermione Granger" was placed within the dungeon house chambers of Professor Snape. Another thing that had never crossed him while worrying about Hermione was that she'd be staying in the greasy git's _bedroom_!

Suppressing a shudder, he was relieved to see the dot for Snape was in the sitting room. _Good_, Harry thought, _at least he was leaving her alone_. But this thought soon vanished as he watched the dot moved towards the bedroom. Here he watched the dot pace around for a bit, before moving very close to Hermione, where it came to a rest. Although he was pleased that the dots did not come into contact with each other, the thought still disgusted him. Hermione was in Snape's bedroom, with Snape. Of course Harry knew it was bound to happen, for Hermione to stay in his bed while healing, but that didn't go anyway towards making him feel better. Just as long as Snape was not in the bed with her.

Considering Ron's reaction to Hermione being in Snape's chambers while ill at all, which had been one of outrage, especially after being denied to see her, Harry thought it best if Ron was not told about this little realisation. He did not wish to watch his best friend's face turn as red as his hair as he turned over the thought of Hermione sharing a bedroom with Snape.

Of course, there was no proof that Snape was actually _staying _in the room with Hermione. But hours later, when Harry had woken with the map still open at his side, he was disgusted to see that the dots had no moved, Snape still appeared to be at Hermione's side.

_Maybe she really is just that ill_, Harry thought. But then again, he did not wish to think of his friend being in such danger. Even though Professor McGonagall had informed the pair that their friend would be okay, at the hands of Snape, they could not help but worry.

_If she comes out of this okay, and unharmed by Snape, I promise never to distrust him again_, Harry thought desperately. He smirked after saying this, knowing the plausibility of this statement was low.

But here in the classroom, so close to her, Harry was praying again and again that she would be okay.

When class finished, the two boys trudged up to the Great Hall for dinner, hoping to see Professor McGonagall along the way so they could beg her to let them see their friend. And they did see her!

Quick to stop her and question her, Harry and Ron were both infuriated by her quick and simple answer of "No." So much so, that Ron had kicked the nearest statue when McGonagall had rounded the next corner, causing Professor Sprout to take ten points from Gryffindor as she hurried along the hallway.

"It's just not fair, Harry." Ron said glumly. "What if something's wrong?"

Forcing himself not to think of the dots on the map from last night, Harry just answered with "I don't know."

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Hermione however was fine; she was awake and alert, sitting up in Snape's bed. She was alone, Snape was sitting in the sitting room eating a plate of food that the house elves had sent down. She had attempted to eat hers, but the boils on her hands proved to make it impossible, she could not hold the cutlery in her hands without crying out in pain. She could not even attempt to just shovel the food into her mouth with her hands. This upset her, because for the first time since Friday, she was hungry.

She had almost considered calling Professor Snape to help her, but she did not wish to bother him. He had been kind enough to help her with a bath before he sat down to his meal. Hermione almost laughed when she thought of this. Snape and kind just didn't quite seem right. Sure, he wasn't the evil bastard they all thought it was, he… just wasn't nice, either. But for the lat few days, he had been wonderful, helping her in between teaching classes, helping her when she woke screaming and tending to her boils. His touch was still impersonal, which Hermione was grateful for, but he did not seem so ashamed to be cleaning parts of her body no other male had ever touched – not that he'd ever know that.

Choosing to glare at her untouched dinner instead of thinking these thoughts about Snape, Hermione was surprised when she found the man in the doorway.

"Having trouble, _Miss Granger_?" He asked, and as it had been for the past few days, there was no sneer.

Turning her glare from the plate to the man in the doorway, she knew he knew she was smiling inwardly. After asking him to call her Hermione, he had teased her endlessly in his dry way, always calling her Miss Granger and putting quite the heavy emphasis on the words. Well, she at least found it better then the sneer he used in his classrooms. To infuriate him as much as he infuriated him, she simply refused to speak to him when he addressed her in such a way. Childish, but she had nothing better to do.

"No need for such a look." He said, raising an eyebrow. "Now, what is the matter?"

Wordlessly, Hermione held up her boil covered hands. While the boils were vanishing at an alarming rate, they were there enough to make it still hurt to touch things. She had begun to lay on her back for awhile, then her stomach, giving her back equal time to heal, as she found the boils on her back were not healing as fast as she would have hoped. She was ever so grateful for Snape giving her the potions he did; it was the only she peace she got from the pain besides sleep. And after sleeping for almost five days straight, she was being to tire of the activity, for lack of better words.

Another glare crossed her face as a lazy grin spread across Snape's face. "Really _Miss Granger_, you should use your words." He had long before worked out her game, not replying when he called her such, and to Hermione's astonishment, instead of blowing his stack at her, he had joined in the game, playing it with the same viciousness.

She guessed he had nothing better to do either. Once or twice though, he had almost been driven to call her by her name she assumed with much glee, as he either gave in to doing what he had to do, or just leaving the room. She was a Gryffindor, through and through, and she was not going to give in. She had almost laughed when he had.

_Who would have guessed that Snape could have a sense of humour!_ She'd thought with glee when he'd joined the game she started.

Snape raised an eyebrow at her. "Well, _Miss Granger_¸ if you refuse to use your words like a big girl, I guess you won't be able to tell me what is wrong."

Oh, the torture. But she refused to give in, she was too proud for that. Instead, she mimicked him, raising an eyebrow back. When she let out a cry of "OW, fuck it!" when a boil on her forehead burst from the wrinkling of the skin. Amongst the pain, she was horrified. She'd just cursed a very serious curse in front of Snape. Surely he'd take points for that!

To her surprise, he did not seem concerned about her swearing. Instead, he instantly he rushed to her side, summoning a cool cloth to clean the burst boil. She felt so horrible, so embarrassed as tears welled up in her eyes. But if fucking stung! Once he'd finished, he leant back and examined her face.

"Perhaps that will teach you for playing silly little games, Hermione." He said quietly, looking deep in thought. Hermione would have grinned if she hadn't been so afraid of what other boil might burst. Glee threatened to rise of the over the pain. He'd given in!

"Now, back to original problem, what is causing you to attempt to kill your dinner with looks?" Snape asked gently.

"I'm hungry." She mumbled, looking down. When she looked up, Snape's eyebrow was raised again, like a flag asking a question. "I can't hold the damn knife and fork!" Tears threatened her eyes, though out of frustration this time. "It hurts so much." She whispered unhappily. Looking at the black bed, she felt even more embarrassed. When she felt him move, she was glad, he was leaving her to her misery.

She almost died when suddenly she felt his hand on her chin. "Here, Hermione." He said, and she allowed him to guide her head up to look at him. There he sat in front of her, the feared Potions Master of Hogwarts, with her dinner plate sitting on the bed between them, his other hand poised inches from her face, with a single piece of meat perched on it. She just looked at it blankly.

He rolled his eyes. "So much for the know-it-all," he said in an exasperated voice. "Eat," he commanded, moving the fork closer to her face.

Opening her mouth as the food came closer to her face, Hermione felt the humiliation she was feeling was enough to last her entire life. Snape was hand feeding her dinner. Never in her life had she felt like such a weak fool. But as he slowly helped her to eat her dinner, Hermione wondered why she was enjoying it. _All girls like to be pampered once in a while_, she thought. But this wasn't pampering, she quickly correct herself. This was just a _teacher_ looking after an ill _student_. Even if this wasn't the teacher she thought she knew, it was still a teacher.

After she finished her dinner, he sent the plate off with a flick of his wand, and asked her if she'd like to sleep now. Her eyes looked hopefully at her school books which sat on the opposite side of the bed.

Again, Hermione saw Snape roll his eyes. "Do you ever stop studying?" He asked, and Hermione could not tell what was in his voice. Was it disgust? "You almost study as much as-" He broke off and stood up, moving around to the other side of the bed. "I suppose half an hour wouldn't be a problem, but then I've got papers to mark and lessons to plan." He said sternly, and the fun side of his had disappeared.

She could not help but wonder who he had been about to refer to. But he did not allow her to ask, instead he started to help her with her charms homework, becoming the guiding Professor she'd met over the past few nights, instead of the snarly professor the rest of the students knew him as. She pushed her question to the back of her mind as they worked over the next two hours, despite what Snape had said.

Hermione felt disappointment slip through her when he announced their study session over. It wasn't often that she often had the opportunity to talk to someone with a bank of knowledge as vast as Professor Snape's, she was determined to make the best of it. But as he closed her Transfiguration book, she knew her body needed the rest. Before he gave her the sleeping potion he had sitting on the bedside table, he gave her the last little bit of the healing potion, and then applied the other to her skin. Then, as she slowly gave into the slumber supplied by the sleeping potion, she heard his voice say softly, as he left the room to mark his papers:

"Ten points from Gryffindor for cursing, Miss Hermione."

There was a hint of laughter in his voice.

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How's that for chapter 16? I had fun writing that one.

**Nattie**, thanks for your concern and telling me to chill, but writing this is my way to chill, hee hee. I'm currently doing year 12, which is very very stressful (as anyone in Australia could tell you!), and I'm coming up to exams, so this my way to wind down after studying. Hope you like my calming way :-P

And **bootyful**, a kiss might just be coming up, it's all about the right moment :-P

LOL, no need to feel guilty **JTBJAB**! Just post when you can :-)

No **Kiki**, I don't pre-write, I post as soon as a chapter is finished, find it easier to do that. I suck at pre-writing, because I end up going back and re-writing everything three times over, only for it to turn out worse, lol. No hurry on the pic, concentrate on the needed stuff first!

Aw, **NayNay**, I will beat you with a shovel until you tell me my mistakes… I might actually fix them this time --rolls eyes--

Goodnight allllll, have a great weekend, I might not be able to post tomorrow night (it's my "best mate night", and also possibly not on Saturday, so enjoy this for now! I except hugs if I do post tomorrow or Satuday –rolls eyes again—

Thank you **EVERYONE** for your reviews, I love you all!


	17. Dining In

_Here's chapter 17, it's kind of a bit odd, it's more to simple work on what Severus and Hermione are currently going through as she's getting better and they don't know what to do with each other._

_Hope you like it, it's quite OOC (oh, and OOC equals Out of Character, for those who asked :-))_

_OH! I have written this on a computer that doesn't have WinWord or anything with spell check. I've checked, double checked, triple checked, any mistakes, please forgive me, I will edit them and replace this chapter ASAP!_

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**Chapter Seventeen**

By Thursday night, Hermione was feeling better then she had in days, Snape noted. She was able to hold a quill for a short amount of time, and the boils on her body were almost gone. Yet even though she could complete her own homework, he found himself seated on the large bed beside her, offering what help he could. He even offered her to look in several of the books from his expansive collection. Even after she finished her work, she asked to continue reading the books. Snape agreed, and he sat with her still, pointing out particular ideas, theories, and paragraphs.

He tried to deny it, but he was enjoying these nightly conversations of work and theories, he rarely had a chance to discuss such things with anyone in Hogwarts, as many of the staff left him to his dark, lonely chambers.

Thinking this, his stomach gave a funny jolt. Until now, he'd never thought of his chambers as lonely. But the presence of someone to talk to made him uneasy, when he thought of the nights of nothing that he'd endured before. It had never bothered him before, he would not let it bother him now.

After a while, Snape sighed and put the books down. "How are you feeling, Hermione?" He asked, quietly. Even though he loved to torment her by calling her Miss Granger, this was not a time he could do so. He did not need to feel that he had enjoyed the last three hours talking about books and magic and potions with a student, he would allow himself the illusion that she was an equal. This made him even more uneasy.

"I'm feeling okay, thank you Professor." Hermione had not dared to call him "Severus" yet, and he couldn't help but wonder what his reaction would be if she did. He couldn't decided if he would rip her apart with words, or accept it.

"Time for more potion," he said, lifting the bottles off the bedside. As he helped her take one, his readied to her cleanse her skin. "Have you had any dreams lately?" He couldn't help but ask, not meeting her eyes as he carefully cleaned her face.

"No, I haven't." She sighed. "I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. I mean…" she trailed off, as though unsure of what he would think of her. He smirked.

"Do continue, Hermione," he said gently. He was interested in what she saw below her closed eyes when she slept, if she saw him.

A smile flicked across her face. "Sometimes I liked the dreams… if they were dreams. I could fly, Professor." She grinned shyly. "I've never been good at that before."

"Something the great Gryffindor Know-It-All can't do?" Snape raised an eyebrow at her.

"Yes, that's right, I can't fly, you now know my terrible secret. If it hadn't been an essay I wrote in my first year, I might have failed Flying Lessons." She laughed at the thought. He had to admit being amused by this as well. "But in my dreams, I could fly. It was fun, at first. And the forest was really pretty as well. You…" she paused again. "You could fly too, you were there.

"I? Fly? Well, yes, I suppose I can fly, I did referee Quidditch once, remember?" He dared to give her a wary look as she shook her head.

"No, sir, you had wings." She blushed as she said this. "Huge, black, feathered wings." He nearly jerked back in surprise as she reached behind his back as if to see if wings were there or not.

He smirked again. "I suppose that would have been quite the fashion statement." He said drying, neither telling her whether he approved of his wings or not. Truthfully, he did not know himself.

She laughed at his statement. "They suited you, yes." She giggled. "But it was a sweet thing, being out in the open air flying. It was almost a disappointment to wake up to find myself here…" Her eyes found his mouth as he set it in a firm line. _So she hated being here, how could be surprised? _He found himself thinking. "Oh, no, Professor! I don't mean it like that!" she quickly corrected herself, forcing him to wonder if she had read his thoughts. "I meant that… well… after being out in the gorgeous sunlight, to find myself here, covered in terrible boils…" A wry smile moved across her face.

He allowed himself to meet her eyes. "I understand, Hermione. Here," he handed her a small potion. "Get some sleep now," a smile touched his lips. "And may your dreams be sweet." He was warmed by the smile she returned, before he stood and left the room.

Slowly he wandered around his sitting room, his long fingers lightly brushing the bookcases that lined two walls of the room. With a flick of his wand, he set a fire a blazing in his fire place. He wasn't sure what to think of his being in her 'dreams', applying the potion to her body. How had she managed to be so calm just then, when he had cleaned her right in front her, while she was awake? He wondered if she'd noticed how his hands had trembled while doing so, afraid that she would push him away, considering where he'd been forced to touch her.

Oh, why was he so worried? She'd known since day one what he'd had to do to her, cleansing her. He knew by her screams of pain when a boil burst just what pain it caused, of course she was going to allow him to do anything which would take away that pain. Once upon a time, the screaming would have grated against his nerves, but now, when cringed in worry of what the girl must be feeling. Although he knew she would be feeling pain no where near what he had felt within his life. Now that... _he_ was gone, Snape hoped to Merlin that no one would ever have to, especially the little witch in his bed.

As much as he did not want to, Snape had to admit that he was enjoying the past few evening, sitting in his bedroom with Miss Granger, talking about all things academic. Annoying as she was in the classroom, with her waving hand and know-it-all voice, she was very interesting to hold a conversation with, outside the classroom, without Potter and Weasley flanking her sides. Picking a book from the shelf at random, he sat himself on the leather couch, sitting at one end with one leg stretched along the back. Bloody Potter and Weasley, always trying to get into everything. He had found them glaring at his office door during their Potions classes, and he knew how desperately they wanted to get into his private chambers and seek out their friend. He knew he would have to keep an extra close eye on them, at least until Hermione was 100 better.

Hermione? No, it was _Miss Granger_. He would not give into her games in his head.

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By Friday afternoon, Hermione was feeling much, much better. She had hoped to be back in the Gryffindor Common room by Friday night, but even though now she could feed herself and attend to her own boils, she still ached, and though the boils were tiny and her skin was almost clear, Snape had informed her that it was probably best if she stayed one more night, just to make sure.

Although she missed her friends terribly and knew that they must be worried about her, she was forced to question her as to just why she didn't mind the idea of spending the extra night in Snape's chambers. The rational part of her mind told her that it was simply because she could not risk returning to the common room and having a relapse. Another part of her mind told her that she was just enjoying his company. Not that she could believe that would ever happen in her entire life - enjoy Severus Snape's company! But he had been almost a pleasure to talk to for the past couple of nights, sitting up with her and talking about schooling and potions and other subjects in ways she'd never dream of being able to do with Harry and Ron, as much as she loved them both.

Talking to Snape about all that she had had proved to be a real eye opener. She had met a side of him that wasn't nasty, sneering, insulting. He had been kind, gentle, didn't even make ridicule her when she made a mistake in her work. Sometimes she'd go as far as saying he was nice, open to her. She greatly appreciated the time in the evenings he gave to help her, and wanted to find a way to repay him, despite knowing how impossible that would be. What would she do? Give him a box of chocolates? At this idea, she gave a little snort, just as the man in her thoughts swept into the room.

"What in my room do you find so amusing?" He asked, one of his eyebrows arching up, as it often did.

She was caught with a look of surprise, as he held out a plate of dinner. "Um, nothing, Sir." She ducked her head, blushing.

Keeping his eyebrow raised, Snape sat the plate on the bedside table. "Here you, Miss Granger," hearing this, she glared at him, "I took the liberty of fetching you some lunch. I believe you like egg and bacon pie?" Surprised that he knew what she liked, she nodded as he sat on the bed next to her. "Do you need any help?" The genuine gentleness in his voice rocked her.

"No, thank you," she smiled warmly at him, no longer afraid of the boils which would burn her skin if burst. She reached for the plate, and sat it in her lap. He watched her warily, as if almost scared that she'd drop food onto his bed. But then she noticed the hunger in his eyes as he looked at her dinner. An image of his thin, pale body that she'd seen that day flashed through her mind. "Have you eaten, sir?" she asked casually.

He shook his head. "No, Miss Granger, I thought only to fetch one plate."

Hermione looked at him, before picking up a piece of the pie on her plate and extending the fork. "Then we'll just have to share." She said, with a wry smile.

"No, Miss Granger, you need the food." He said, turning his head.

"Sir, really, you need to eat." She insisted, holding out the fork to him, urging him to take the food. When he still refused, she dared to venture where she had never been before. "_Severus_." She said firmly, pushing the fork further towards his face.

His eyes flew wide, startled. When their eyes met, however, she saw a haunted look within them. "Please...?" she asked, still holding the fork. Resigned, he closed his eyes and leaned towards her, his mouth opening and closing around the fork which she held. Hermione suddenly felt as though her nerves had stretched beyond her fingertips and into the fork. He swallowed the food, opening her eyes and looking guilty about what he'd done.

She was quick to offer him another bite, which he took without argument. "It's been a long time since I had egg and bacon pie," he said conversationally, the look on his face saying that he was desperate to try and keep this as normal as he possibly could.

"Mm, it's delicious, isn't it?" Hermione asked, taking a bit for herself. "My mother used to make it a lot. As great as the food is here at Hogwarts though, they'll never match my mothers cooking." She watched him as he took another bite from the fork she offered. Something which she couldn't identify coursed through her veins as she realised that they were sharing the same fork, and as opposed to him feeding her, she was feeding him.

"I was never much of a fan of it, in all honesty... but I suppose it'll do for now..." He smiled at her.

After the meal was polished off by the pair, the spell that had settled over them had broken. Hermione knew Snape didn't have another class to teach after lunch, so she wondered what he did when he wasn't looking after a sick witch. Not that he'd do that very often. She watched him as he stood from the bed and moved to the wardrobe to her left. He removed a black cloak from his wardrobe and turned back to the bed.

"Would you feel up to brewing a potion for me, Hermione?" He asked. "You've missed a lot of class, perhaps you should do some practical work, it might help your body heal. I'd like you to demonstrate you ability at brewing the potion you need to be taking for you to heal. We'd be working in _my_ lab."

Hermione paled and nearly toppled out of bed as he helped her from the bed. She'd just been invited to work in Snape's private potions lab, after feeding him lunch from her fork.

What was wrong with this man? Who was it? It was _not_ Snape, not even the side of him she'd met over the past few days.

Unnerved, she followed him from the room, she took the thick black slippers he offered her, to help protect her feet while trying not to giggle, picturing the surly Potions Master sitting by a fire in pyjamas and these slippers. A hand held her shoulder.

"Does this hurt, to stand?" He asked.

Determined, she shook her head and followed Snape into his sitting room and into his private lab.

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_Thought I'd leave the actual potion brewing to the next chapter, I hope you all enjoyed this one! G'night, it's latttttttttte!_


	18. Leaving

Ooo, I get the feeling people aren't going to be too impressed with me after this chapter…. But I hope you all like it anyway! More OOCness stuff, but meh, it's gotta happen sometimes!

Enjoy!

Oh, and a special **HAPPY BIRTHDAY** to D**ragonmaster Kurai **for the other day, I'm glad you liked my birthday present – a chapter!

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**Chapter Eighteen**

Saturday morning brought mixed feelings for Hermione Granger. While she was happy that Snape had informed her last night that today she would be returning to the Gryffindor Common room, she knew she was saddened to be leaving the care of Professor Snape. His company had been wonderful the past few days, much to Hermione's surprise, especially yesterday. Even though the egg and bacon pie incident was not mentioned again, they had worked in Snape's private potions lab in a very comfortable way.

Hermione found Snape most fascinating to work with outside of the classroom. He was clearly much more relaxed. He had asked her to brew him the healing potion, and then, having claimed it adequate (which she knew was a high compliment from this Potions Master), he had asked her to brew several other potions. While she worked, he also asked her to explain each other of the potions, what their ingredients did for them and what would happen if she did something wrong. Hermione had been very proud of herself when she found herself able to answer every one of his questions. And for since, her doing so was not greeted with the usual sneer.

Together they had worked side by side for four hours, Hermione wearing one of his black cloaks which she found surprisingly comfortable, despite the body size different between the two of them. She tried hard not to get caught up in his scent, which was laced within the material. While he did not smell dirty, or greasy, Hermione did not allow herself to dwell on the scent and analyse it, only to think in the back of her mind that it was most wonderful.

Once or twice, Hermione found herself needing to sit down. Her boils were no longer a bother, but from being in bed for almost the entire week, her body was not used to the movement. Adding to her shock of the past few days, Snape had been kind and told her to rest during those times she needed, sitting her in his chair, and quickly taking over the potion. Hermione told herself that this was only to avoid any damage.

After dinner, he helped her settle back into bed, and while she dosed herself up with potion, as she had become so apt at doing, he stood, studying his bookshelf. When he finally pulled a book down, he kept it in the dark, but she saw the smirk on his face. He had handed her the book, covering the title, telling her it was about time she read something new and exciting.

She couldn't help but laugh when she realised what book she was holding. "_Hogwarts: A History_, Sir?" she had said, pretending to be somewhat disgusted. "New? Hardly! Fascinating? Why, yes!" This had proceeded into an amusing conversation about the little know facts of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Hermione could scarcely believe that this was the man who sneered and deducted points every few moments in the classroom. This man had been warm to her, open and to an extent, amusing. She could not believe that he would bring this side out to her.

But the Severus Snape that met Hermione when she woke Saturday was not the man she had spent the last few days staying with.

She had risen to find that her body was clean, clear of any signs of the boils that had caused her such pain. Oh, she knew one or two on her back were still there, but she was not worried about them. She was finally well again, she could finally go outside. Yet… she did not wish to leave the potions master to his lonely dungeons. She knew he had enjoyed her company, as much as he would deny it if ever questioned. She had enjoyed it as well. But she needed to see her friends!

Slipping out of bed, she wondered where Snape was. She had not allowed herself to call him Severus since yesterday, while feeding him the pie. While his reaction had not been what she had expected, she didn't dare try again, just in case. Several times, while working away in his private lab, she had almost stumbled; almost let that name fly from her lips.

Carefully, quietly, she had left the bedroom in her bed clothes, stepping into the sitting room. Snape was sitting there, on the couch, a book open in his lap.

"You're up." Hermione was taken back by the ice she heard in his voice.

Trying not to seem deterred, Hermione moved around to stand in front of him. "Yes, and my boils are just about all gone."

Without looking at her, he flicked his hand. The door that led to his office swung open. "Then if you no long require my assistance, leave."

"Sir?" She asked, knowing that her voice registered the shock that had flooded her body.

The book closed with a snap. "Leave. These are my _private_ quarters. I demand you leave at once!" He stood, and still without looking at her, walked into his bedroom. He returned, holding a pile of parchment. Her homework from the past few days. "I believe you have everything, now leave." He sneered at her, thrusting the papers at her.

Unwillingly, tears stung Hermione's eyes. But she attempted to return his iciness, not caring about house points at this current point. What was wrong with him? They'd gotten along so well the past few days, what had happened to make him turn back into the man the rest of the school knew and feared. "Yes. Very well. Thank you, _sir._" She said, putting emphasis on that one word. Seeing him jump a little at her words, she opted for a quieter approach. "Thank you, Professor. I'm really grateful for you looking after me for the past week."

He finally raised his head to look at her, his black eyes hollow tunnels. "Leave." Was all he said.

Feeling the tears threaten to spill over, Hermione turned and fled the sitting room, his private quarters, and finally the dungeons all together. She ran through the castle, clutching her papers, tears flowing down her face, wearing only her bed clothes. She didn't are if people saw her. What had happened to him? What had she done?

Stopping outside the entrance to the Gryffindor tower, she waited for a moment, taking her wand out to transfigure one of the pieces of parchment into a handkerchief, quickly using it to wipe her face and try to calm down. If any of her friends were in the common room, she did not wish to return from a week with Snape looking like this. She knew exactly what they would think. Considering this further, she used her wand to cast a calming spell.

Gathering herself, she spoke the password and stepped through the hole in the wall. Walking into the Common room, she was greeted by the cries of "Hermione!" from Ginny, Ron and Harry. Ginny and Harry were sitting by the fire, holding hands. All three of them looked only half awake, and grinning at the sight of her.

Despite the calming spell Hermione has cast upon herself, tears threatened to spill again, so she just shook her head at the three, and ran to her bedroom, leaving her friends completely shocked. As shocked as she had been to meet such a cold, angry Snape that morning.

Since she was Head Girl, she had her own room, a room that all students could access if need be, or if they could not speak with her, leave notes for her to get in contact with them. Clearly her presence had been missed, judging by the pile of notes that waited for her, jut beyond her door, as they'd been slid under the door. Slamming the door, she kicked at the pile of notes before flinging herself onto the bed.

_What had happened?_ Her mind cried, wondering how he could go from being so warm to being so icy while she was asleep. Should he have been even better today, knowing that he was going to be free of her presence, that she'd now leave him completely alone? Instead he'd been an icy, cruel man. Tears slipped down her cheeks, soaking her pillows.

A knock at the door startled her, and she yelled at whoever it was just to leave her alone.

"Hermione, we're not going to go away," Harry's voice rang through the door. "Let us in, tell us what happened! Did that bastard hurt you?"

With a flick of the wand, Hermione opened the door, though this flick reminded her of the one that Snape had performed just moments ago to throw her from his rooms. Her three friends entered the room, and moved to be beside her, Ginny closing the door.

Harry sat down on the bed next to her, while Ron proceeded to begin pacing. "What did he do to you?" He demanded to know.

"N-nothing," Hermione whispered. "You wouldn't understand." Realising how terrible this must sound to her friends, she let out a sniffle, and then moved off of her bed, and over to her set of drawers. Opening the third drawer, she pulled out a flask.

"Hermione, don't!" Harry cried.

"It's just a calming draught." Hermione said, taking some, and waited for its effects to kick in. She moved back to the bed, and sat down.

"What did that greasy git do?" Ron snapped, once she'd sat down again, earning himself glares from Harry, Ginny and Hermione.

"What happened, Hermione? We've been so worried about you." Ginny said softly, coming to put an arm around her friend. "McGonagall told us what happened and where you were staying, but we weren't allowed to come and see you. We've missed you. Please tell us what happened?"

Feeling the crying subside thanks to the potion she kept stored up from exam periods, Hermione began to tell them about the fever, about the delusions and about the kind Snape she had met. Oh, of course she didn't tell them about all the chats they'd had, the reading they'd done together, the way he'd been so lovely and warm and open to her. She only told them that he had not been nasty,

"Then this morning, he was _horrible_ to me!" She whispered, looking at her hands. "I don't know what happened, but when I told him that all my boils were gone, he told me to get out."

"Stupid git was probably just tired of looking after you, he's a selfish bastard." Ron snapped. "I'm just glad he didn't hurt you."

Hermione couldn't tell him that their Professor had hurt her. For a while, she thought she'd almost made a friend in the surly Professor, someone she could converse with on occasions, and work with easily. To have that idea ripped away from her in such a cold way did hurt. But Ron, who hated the man, could never understand that, Hermione knew.

After awhile, the boys left, on assurances from Hermione that she was okay, that she should do her work now. Ginny hung back for a second, touching her friend's shoulder.

"Maybe he didn't want you to get better." She whispered. "Maybe he liked having you around and was upset that you were going to leave him." She left the room in a swing of red hair.

Hermione watched the door close. Snape? Be sad that she was going to leaving him to his peace? Quickly, she pushed that idea to the back of head.

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Deep in the dungeons, Snape sat in the same spot for hours on end, staring listlessly into the fire that he had conjured up to battle some of the coldness that had settled over his rooms. But the fire did nothing for it, or the cold angry that raged in his body. How could he have been so cruel to her, when clearly she'd only wanted to thank him for all he'd done for her? How could he had been such an _ass_, when he should have thanked her for all the things she'd done for _him_?

After having the young witch in his chambers for a week, he had grown to enjoy the company of the Gryffindor. She had been a very pleasant change from the cold, lonely evenings, someone to talk to, even to laugh with. Having her even in his potions lab had been wonderful, watching her work so well, explain things so clearly and know exactly what she was doing. She had the makings to be a great potions mistress.

He had foolishly allowed himself to forget his place, her place. He was a teacher; she was just a student, a student from his arch enemy house of all houses. And yet, here he was, wishing she was still ill, just so she'd stayed in his chambers just a while longer.

_No! _he protested silently. He could not allow that, he could not wish that Miss Granger was still here to talk to. He wanted his peace, he needed his peace, and her presence had only been an annoyance which he had highly anticipated the end of. He would not be dragged down by it. It would be with happiness that he would return to his lonely nights, his meals in the Great Hall, his empty bedroom.

He would not miss her….

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Hm, this chapter's not quite feeling right, but I'll post it anyway. It probably doesn't feel right because I've re-written it, like I said I never would do. –sigh—

First up, sorry to everyone who wanted to actually see them doing the brewing, I wrote that, and it was just horrible, so I couldn't have posted it, because you all would have slaughtered me for the horrible job :-P So, I'm really sorry everyone for that!

**Taste's Like Home**, thank you so much for your kind comments, I'll slap your author thing for not telling you I'd updated, lol. But then again, gave you more to read when you found it!

Can you please email me that link at sparkling silver angel wingsat hot mail (obviously an underscore in the spaces, symbol "at" and also the last two together – won't work otherwise) because it's not working :-P And yes, those things you thought he would be like may just show up later on in the story ;-)

Glad everything's making sense now **iheartfredandgeorge83**, feel free to email me if there's anything else you want to know!

**Caitee**they might just already be there, they've only got to figure it out!

Ooo, it's great to hear where you're from **suelensnape**, I love hearing where my readers are from!


	19. Anger

_Okay, this chapter is really quite odd, just re-reading over it now. It's Hermione's turn to be OOC, but I thought that this might be her views on some things, and after all she's been through, her reaction. Nice flames, if any, please!_

_Check the note at the moment if anyone wants a good laugh!_

_Warning though, swearing occurs a fair bit in this chapter, just to help get the annoyance across. Hope no one is offended!_

_Enjoy this chapter!_

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**Chapter Nineteen**

Dinner Saturday night proved to be a very uncomfortable meal. At the urging of both her stomach and her friends, Hermione descended into the Great Hall to join her classmates for the first time in over a week. People seemed surprised to see her entire the Hall, and she was glad that she had not returned before all of her boils had healed, she could not imagine allowing the others to see the Head Girl in such a state.

Much to her surprise, when she looked at the Staff Table, Professor Snape was seated in his usual spot. Just as she looked at him, he looked up and their eyes met. From such a distance, Hermione could not read them, did not want to. She didn't want to see that hate in them. Lowering her head, she scurried over to the Gryffindor table to join her House.

"Snape's not looking happy," Ginny commented.

Ron let out a snort. "When does that greasy bat ever look happy?" The mention of bats lead Hermione to think of the wings she had seen Snape with during her dreams. They weren't bat wings, they were beautiful, feathered wings. He wasn't a bat, she thought, her eyes narrowing.

Seeming to notice her eyes, Ron put down his fork with force. "Look, I'm sorry Hermione. You can say as much as you like that he was a great carer and that it's thanks to him that you're all better, but the point is, _he still made you cry!_"

"He doesn't look angry though," Ginny jumped in from Harry's left. She gave Hermione a meaningful look.

Hermione couldn't help but wonder what Ginny was going on about. First her comment earlier about him wanting her around… what was she pointing at? That Snape really was sad because now that she was feeling better, she'd be back with her friends? Why on earth would Ginny think such ridiculous thoughts?

Pointedly ignoring the two of them, Hermione tucked into her stew as best she could, despite her sudden loss of appetite. Hang on, what did she even care what Snape felt? It was with the force of a sledgehammer that she realised she did care what he thought. More over, she cared for the man himself. Well, at least the man who had sat with her and read to her, not the man who had thrown her out of his rooms with such an icy hand.

Frowning at this thought, she looked up at the man, only to her meeting his eyes again. Again, they both looked away. Ginny was right, he did look sad. But that couldn't be right, it just couldn't be. Snape would never have wanted her to stay, he could never have thought of her as a friend, despite how kind he'd been.

Knowing she wasn't going to be able to eat with all these thoughts in her head, Hermione stood, bid her friends goodnight and went to bed.

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Why had he been so stupid and gone to the Great Hall for dinner? He should have just asked for his meal to be brought down to his dungeons again. He couldn't describe what he felt when his eyes met those of the Miss Granger when she entered the Hall, the rush of _something_ when their eyes met, dismay when she turned from him.

He had spent all day sitting in his rooms, anger stirring, replaced with sorrow at times. At first he couldn't understand what was going on, but slowly, ever so slowly realisation had come over him. He hadn't wanted the student to leave his presence. He had enjoyed those days, finishing teaching and entering his rooms to find a woman waiting for him, someone to talk to, someone to share ideas with. His reputation preceded him both in and out of the school, often making it hard for him to have a decent conversation with someone who did not wear the judgement of him so openly on their faces. His past had caused more discomfort then pleasure.

But Miss Granger had been something different. She had talked with him, shared ideas with him, and never once looked upon him with disgust. He had cared for her during her illness, and unbeknown to him at the time, felt care for the young woman herself. She had seemed to enjoy his company, wanted to talk to him.

How had he ended it? But tossing her from his rooms as though _he'd_ used her all up and was bored with her now.

When he realised, anger had scorched his body again, leaving him unable to think of nothing else. "Fool! Fucking fool!" He had muttered to himself as anger burn through his body, when Miss Granger had so quickly dropped her eyes and hurried across the room. Oh, he knew he had hurt her by his coldness, but he didn't realise just how much he would hurt _himself_ by doing so.

"Is there a problem?" Filius Flitwick asked kindly, looking at him. Snape scowled at himself again, how dare he allow the tiny wizard to notice his distress.

"I'm just tired." He snapped dismissively.

"Ah, yes," Filius nodded. "You've been looking after Miss Granger this week, haven't you?" He smiled kindly. "Well, we all know how you feel about students. Though I must say it was awfully good of her to still get all her homework done during her ailment."

Snape's hands curled into fists under the table, gripping his robes tight. If only that tiny annoying shit had known that he, Severus Snape, had spent his evenings sitting with the witch, helping her with her homework, bewitching his hand to appear as though it was her writing, and not his own, cramped, spiky letters. It had marvelled him to write in such soft, curly handwriting, and he noticed only then how beautiful her hand writing was. Not that'd told her so.

"Well, we all know that know-it-all Gryffindor couldn't dare get a moment behind." He sneered at his colleague.

Filius kept eating, as though Snape had commented on how nice she was, much to Snape's disgust. "She needn't have worried, she's three chapters in front of the entire seventh year! She could do her NEWTs tomorrow and still get the highest grades in years."

Hearing this, Professor Hayrung, who was sitting on Snape's other side, leaned forward. "I've never met such a bright young witch."

Soon the whole staff table was talking about Miss Granger, who Snape found his eyes searching for. He found her just in time to find her looking up at him from where she sat, flanked by her _bodyguards_. He felt a rush of something again, and then anger when her eyes dropped back to her plate, before she stood and left. But in that one second that their eyes had shared, Snape felt a thousand things. More then anything, he felt her pain.

Snape watched her as she left, then watching the ever perfect Potter stand and leave behind her, leaving the two Weasley chit's at the table, looking bewildered. But he didn't care about that. What he cared about was that _he_ should have been the one to leave after Miss Granger, to tell her he was sorry for being so cruel. Not the Potter boy. But Snape felt rooted to his seat.

_Coward_ was all he could think, as he too rose and left the Head Table.

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Jogging, Harry caught up with Hermione, just as she was heading into her bedroom. "Hermione, wait up!" He cried, just as she was shutting the door. He was surprised when she hesitated for a moment before opening the door wider and letting him into her private bedroom.

"What's wrong?" He asked, as she flopped onto the bed.

"I don't know. I'm just a little…" her hand waved in the air. "Confused, I suppose." She pulled herself up into a sitting position.

Harry sat at the end of the bed. "Confused? About what?" He asked, his hands picking at invisible bits of fluff. He'd only ever seen his best friend like this when it involved one of two things: Voldemort, who was now gone, or homework, which couldn't be the case at the moment.

"Why does Ron have to be so bloody cruel to Professor Snape?" Hermione burst out. Harry nearly fell off the bed, hearing this. "I'm sick of it, Harry, sick of it! The war is fucking over, but no one can let go of it. All the prejudices, all the masks, why can't it all fucking go away!" She stood and began to pace, wrapping her arms around herself.

Shocked as he was to hear such an outburst from his friend, Harry knew where she was coming from. He was sure he was almost the only student in the entirety of Hogwarts who did. "I know, Hermione, I don't get it either."

"No, you bloody well don't!" Hermione yelled. "You weren't down there, you didn't see him. Harry, for the first time in my life I saw that _man_! I saw what this fucking war has done to him, and knew that it'd done it to hundreds like him, but no one fucking cares, they think it's all about the fucking glory, they forget about the people who worked hard!"

Although he'd never heard his friend swear this much, this was not what shocked him. He had never stopped to think of what the war had done to Severus Snape.

"What about the people who lost their lives or parts of their lives to that fucking bastard!" Hermione picked up a pillow and tore it open. "If only Ron and everyone else knew the effects, the real effects." Tears rolled down her cheek.

"How can we expect him to understand, Hermione?" Harry said quietly. "He was never there, he never saw anything. He never saw Voldemort, like we did, remember? He had been knocked out. Ron doesn't understand what it's like to have what you loved ripped away from you, he's family is all safe now."

"But how can he be so cold, so cruel, so judgemental?" Hermione asked, frustrated.

Taking a breath, Harry didn't know how to say what was needed. "Hermoine… Snape killed Dumbledore, remember? Whether he was being controlled or not, Ron can only see the cold, heartless asshole that we've had for the last seven years as the cold, heartless asshole that killed Dumbledore." He managed, quietly. "Ron has trouble with acceptance, you know that."

"Emotion range of a teaspoon," Hermione joked quietly, brushing some tears away from her face.

Harry allowed her a smile, as she sat down on the bed. "Exactly. He won't ever understand. First impressions always last, Hermione. We've seen the horrible side of Snape for our entire education now; you can't blame us for fretting when you were forced to spend a week with him, ill. He wouldn't let us come see you, we didn't hear from you, we didn't know anything that was going on. And then you come back, all upset. What's Ron going to think?"

He watched his friend think this over. "I wasn't sure what to think either, Harry, when I first realised. But he was so good to me." She sniffled. "He talked to me, he taught me, I think he almost cared for me. I saw what the war had done to him, and now that I know that it would have done the same to so may others, Ron's attitude just drives me crazy!"

"You can't change him," Harry smiled. "Nor can you change what happened during the war to change anyone else… or the fact that I still haven't done all my Charms homework." He watched in amazement as the academic side of Hermione took over and she began to lecture her.

When she paused, and noticed his grin, they both started laughing, putting the war behind them.

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_Hm, not too happy with this, but I'll keep it anyway. I figured Hermione needed to have an outburst._

_**Important note! **If anyone needs a good giggle, please email me, I have the BEST link for anyone who loves Snape, you've probably all seen it before, but I was rolling after I saw it, it's just wonderful! So yes, just email me on sparkling silver angel wingsat hot mail (underscore between every word)._

_Thanks for all the reviews!_

_**Carebearerin**, I was thrilled to get you review just a moment after I posted, I love getting reviews while I'm still online, knowing that people are actually reading my story right then! Sorry, but major cool feeling!_

_And Severus might just break down very soon, **Velvet Storm**_

_Bi-Polar Snape! That's just so funny, and so true, thanks **Tinas74**_

_I can't wait for your update **JTBJAB**!_

_I get the feeling you're waiting for something, **Vespera3 **;-)_

_Aw, **siriusluv**, you made me blush!_

_LOL, thank you** Caitee** for your review, nice to know I have fans! ;-)_

_Llamas to you too, **Kiera Lee**, I love llamas, aren't they so cool?_

_**NayNay, **I love the slippers as well, thought they'd be a nice touch. And she had to feed him, she was worried about the poor lamb! And as for Ginny – female intuition, never fails._

_Hope you think what you find in the next chapter, **Severus-Fan**, when everything comes a crashing (or soaring, depending on how you want to put it ;-) – you'll just have to wait and see, but I can't wait, it's going to be so much fun to write!)_

_Oh yes, **Tragic Fanstasy**, he will miss her, and already does, as will be told in the next chapter._

_Oooo, I'm in such a crazy mood, after re-watching that video, serious, you guys have to see it (won't post link here, am scared that it won't work and I'll look like a fool)_

_Wish I could write and post the next chapter now, I'm looking forward to it, but must go to bed, am sleepy and have the wonderful school tomorrow…. Everyone wish me luck though, I've got a big test tomorrow!_

_Thank you all for reading and reviewing!_


	20. A New Lesson

_New chapter! I bet no one of you will expect what happens in this chapter, I just hope no one totally hates it! Enjoy!_

_For all those who emailed me for the link, hope you all liked it!_

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**Chapter Twenty**

Snape found not being able to sleep Saturday night more infuriating then ever, even though it was something he was certainly used to. And when he did manage to fall asleep, at 3 am, he was abruptly woken at 5am. His first thought was of that _5am… must wake Miss Granger for her potion_. But then he remembered that Miss Granger had left his quarters that day. It was with disgust that he remembered just _how_ she'd left. It was with a pang of regret that he remembered the pain he had seen in her eyes the evening before.

Upon returning to his chambers after dinner, Snape had been almost bowled over by the sense of loneliness that swelled there, filling every corner. No longer was there a little witch there every time he opened his door, someone to talk to and help. Someone who could one day meet his level of intellect, if she didn't already.

It didn't matter that he had kicked her out, he decided, seeing as she would have left, never to return anyway. It was foolish to think a young witch like her could enjoy spending time with him, in these dark, cold, dungeons!

Sunday passed with a fatigue blurred whiz, Snape not daring to venture from his dungeons, spending the day brewing potions and researching some ideas. By the time dinner came though, he knew he needed to get out, if only for a little while. His dungeons reminded him of the days he'd spent with Miss Granger, and he was quite ashamed with himself for letting his mind be plagued with her. He briefly considered heading into Hogsmeade for a drink, but instead, he once again remembered what Miss Granger had told him. _"You could fly… you had wings… huge, black, feathered wings…_". While he did not particularly fancy the idea of himself with wings, his mind was reeling at the idea of flying.

Truth be told, it was something had had done since he had referred the Quidditch Match in the young witch's first year, which was seven years ago now. He had shied from it as a youngster, after one terribly embarrassing incident involving a bucking broomstick and his peers laughing openly at him. But now… there were no Quidditch practices Sunday evenings, and beside, the whole school would be at dinner. Surely it wouldn't hurt…

Fetching his thick black cloak, Snape headed out of his private rooms before he could change his mind. Perhaps this would make him feel better… Fastening his cloak, he strode through the corridors, and out the Entrance Hall, gratefully aware that the positioning of the doors to he Great would no one to see him as he swept through the great oak doors of the school. Outside, the air was beginning to chill as the sun sank lower and lower on the horizon, it would be dark very soon. But that did not stop from him moving towards the Quidditch Pitch on the school grounds.

Once there, he detoured into the broomstick shed, and pulled out an old Shooting Star from the class sets of brooms. It was hardly a sophisticated broom, but Snape was not worried. Leaving the broom shed, he flicked his cloak aside to mount his broom. It had been too long since he'd ridden a broom, he decided, as he kicked off from the ground and went soaring into the air.

Not once, did he notice the small figure, hidden beneath the Quidditch stands watching him.

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Though she was certainly feeling much better then she had been the day before, Hermione spent most of her day looked away in her room, reading. The boys and Ginny had popped by at random times, attempting to get her to come into the common room. She gave in and went to lunch with them. Part of her was glad when she saw that Professor Snape was not seated at the Head Table, while part of her fell. She wondered where he was, and what he was doing. Chances were, he was alone, just the way he wanted to be, she thought with a sneer.

When dinner approached, Hermione had found herself not wanting to eat. Knowing that Harry and Ron would be looking for her, she quickly stuck a note to her door telling anyone who needed the Head Girl that she was currently busy and would be back later, if they'd please leave a note. Hurrying out of Gryffindor tower before her friends could see her, she paused around a corner, wondering what to do. Normally, if she wasn't in her room, she was in the library, so Harry and Ron would easily find her if she was there. She wasn't sure why she was so eager to escape from them, but they'd been acting a little too worried, a little too over protective.

A thought passed through her mind, and she suddenly found herself hurrying for the perfect hiding spot she had found during her third year. While she was using the time-turner, she had found she needed somewhere other then the library to study, as it was too many students were sent to the library during class to get a book – surely one day someone from her classes would be sent there, and they'd know she wasn't meant to be there. So she had searched the school for the perfect place, and eventually found the perfect hiding place – beneath the stands on the Quidditch Pitch. It was somewhere no one usually went during the classes, and the first years had their flying lessons up closer to the school.

Since the weather was only just coming into spring, the evening had chill to it, so Hermione paused to cast a warming charm on herself as she'd forgotten her cloak. Feeling warmth spread again, she began to wander slowly around beneath the stands, humming softly to herself.

She hadn't seen Snape since dinner last night, and she didn't particularly want to, either. She didn't want to examine the loneliness she'd felt in her room last night, when she'd laid back down in her own bed. While she was glad that she was back to her own space, she wished for someone to talk to. Someone that didn't only want to talk about Quidditch, or get her to practically do their homework for them. But she refused to allow herself to miss the time she spent in the dungeon.

Settling into her little spot where she could see all around her, but she was pretty sure no one could see her, Hermione gazed around the school grounds. This was her last year at Hogwarts, and she still didn't know what she wanted to do after her time there. She loved all of her subjects, and wondered what she could do when finished that would involve all of them. There had to be something.

Hermione found herself so deeply caught within her thoughts that she almost missed the dark figure emerge from her broomstick shed, holding a broom. She nearly fell from her hiding spot when she realised that the figure was Severus Snape. Keeping still, she watched him as he mounted the broomstick and shot off into the air, his long cloak billowing out behind him. She wandered what he was doing out here, flying effortlessly around the pitch, doing laps. He didn't appear to be flying very fast, nor was he paying much attention to the lazy circles he was performing.

Watching him go into a sudden, sharp dive, she found her breath catch and her heart began to pound. After the lazy flying, the dive scared her, and she wondered just what he was doing. Inches from the ground, he pulled out of the dive and continued with his circles, slowly spirally upwards again. Hermione allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief at this, but her breath caught again when he turned his head to look in her direction. Quickly, she froze, hoping that the shadows of the rising dusk had hidden her from the dark haired man. She did not need another ice cold confrontation, another rejection.

Afraid to move in case he saw her, she watched him as he continued his pattern of lazy circles, and then a sharp dive. But this time, her breath didn't catch until the Professor pulled out of the dive, barely meters from her.

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Perched on the broomstick in mid air, Snape turned to look at the young witch, who was half covered in shadows, but not able to hide the look of horror on her face. He smirked at her. He had seen her during the first dive he pulled, but had not acknowledged her presence. Allowing himself a few more laps in the cool air, he wondered just what she of all people were doing here, in the Quidditch Stands of all places. Though he suppose she could be thinking the same thing as him.

Slowly, he flew towards her, until his feet touched solid ground. The young witch was seated on one of the platforms that helped hold the stadium up. "What brings you here, Miss Granger?" He asked, annoyed at the stiffness that came through.

He watched as she regained control after her shock and her face closed off to him. "I often come down here, sir." She replied, not meeting his eyes.

"That's not what I asked, Miss Granger." Mentally, Snape wondered just why he was being so cold to the witch. She had not asked him to come and talk to her, and technically, she wasn't even breaking any school rules, as it was not officially dark yet. And she was Head Girl; she was an exception to the rules, as she had to make rounds. Though it was evident that she was not making any rounds, tucking herself into this little place.

"It's just… this is where I come sometimes, that's all." She continued to avoid his eyes.

He raised an eyebrow. "To escape, Miss Granger?" He asked, thanking his voice for portraying some of the understanding he felt.

Her eyes finally met his, and to his surprise, he saw tears gleaming in them. "Yes, sir." She said quietly.

"Yes, it's easy for a teacher to forget the lack of escaping places for students in a school, even in one as large as Hogwarts." He waved a hand at the castle, causing his cloak to swish as he flicked it aside. "I usually head into the village for a drink, but I see you've found a much more student-friendly alternative… during the day time, anyway." He tried to sound stern, but even after all the practice he'd had, for some reason it was tough.

To his surprise, she laughed. "Yes, I'm sure the staff would love it if we students started to escape over to Three Broomsticks to escape during the week."

The two stayed quiet for a moment, before Hermione stood. "Sorry for taking up your time, Sir, I'll return to the castle now."

"Hermione, wait." Snape surprised himself by nearly reaching for her arm to stop her from leaving. She turned to look at him, and he saw her eyes were tear bright. He wasn't sure what to say now, so he held out his broom. "I know a faster way down."

The Gryffindor witch looked at him as though he was insane. "I don't know how to fly, sir." She stated, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Knowing there wouldn't be anyone around, he allowed himself to smile at her. "I'll teach you, if you want." He offered gently. She shook her head viciously. "Hermione," he said gently, liking the way his saying of her name made her react, making her jump a little. "I won't hurt you." Her eyes met his and he searched. He wasn't sure what would happen, when he said those words that he had said to her in the height of her illness.

Slowly she stepped towards him. "How, sir?" She whispered, looking with freight at both the broom and the ground below them. Typical Gryffindor, putting the opportunity to learn something new before anything as else such as fears. He motioned for her to stand in front of him.

"We'll share this broom, it will be able to hold us, and you won't have a chance of falling," he said. Gently, he held her steady and guided her to straddle the broom, just in front of him. "I'll be right here." He guided her hands to grip the broomstick in front of her, and noticed she clung on as if her life depended on it, despite them not even in the air yet. Slowly, he slid an arm around her front, holding onto her waist. "I'll just do this to keep you steady, in case you get scared." He couldn't help but notice how thin she was. Her body pressed back against hers, and he could fear her fear. He found it awfully hard to resist the urge to breath in the scent of her hair. Instead, he whispered:

"Do you trust me?"

She nodded, not moving anything else. "Yes." Was all she said.

Snape kicked off from the platform, rising into the air slowly. Miss Granger let out a shriek, and he felt disbelief running through his body. Why was he doing this? Teaching a student how to fly, how stupid was he? Yet, along with the broomstick, his heart soared with delight. He laughed at Miss Granger's shriek, and he brought them into a gentle dive towards the ground, pulling up when they were just a few metres off the ground.

"Open your eyes, Hermione," he whispered, knowing without looking at her face that her eyes were clenched shut. He felt her breath catch and knew that she had opened her eyes. Her body was so tense, she was so scared.

Taking them for a few, slow, gentle laps of the field in the on coming dusk, he felt her begin to relax. "I can't believe this…" She whispered, half to herself. Snape noticed that her hands still hung to the broomstick as if she would fall if she moved even an inch. He laughed softly at her.

"It's not so bad, is it?" He asked, as they flew around and around, slowly. He kept them to a pace where they could speak without shouting.

"It's… scary!" She said.

"No, this is scary." Quite suddenly, he pulled the broom up, and increased speed, rocketing them into the darkening sky.

"Professorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!" She screamed, as they raced towards the clouds above them. Just as suddenly, he pulled them out of the dive.

"Trust me." He whispered. "Open your eyes, Miss Granger, look around you."

As she did, Snape too gazed at the dusk landscape that lay before them. The tallest tower of Hogwarts was no rival for the view before them. In the clear evening sky they could see for miles, the orange tinged landscape that stretched for miles, the sky and castle reflecting the colour streaked sky, the hills rising and falling all around them, the darkened structure of Hogwarts rising from the green, lush earth. Snape could only hope that Miss Granger was not too scared to see the beauty as they hung in the air.

Apparently she was not. "Oh my, Professor." She gasped, breathless. "It's so beautiful."

"Yes, it is." Snape wondered if she would laugh at this – the greasy potions master appreciating the beauty of the outside world. But her laughter never came, only her breathing as he held her steady. Gently he flew them around in a circle, allowing her to see everything there was to see before the sky became too dark and he knew they had to return to the ground.

But instead of flying back towards the Quidditch pitch, he set their course for the castle, for Gryffindor Tower. He studied the windows closely before choosing a particular one and flying close to it. "I believe this is your stop." He said, lowering them to the large ledge that jutted out of the window. He whispered "_Alohomora_", and the window swung out to reveal Miss Granger's bedroom.

When he set her down, he was met by a surprised look. "How did you know, sir?"

He allowed himself a smile. "I've been at Hogwarts for over twenty years now, teaching or not. I know most of the rooms."

"Of course," came her amused response. Standing there, she looked so unsure, and he noticed fear, as though he was going to say things like he had said to her the day before. Instead…

"Miss Granger… if you ever need any help with any of your work, you're welcome to come and use my private book collection, and ask any question you believe I may be able to help you with." He said stiffly. He was as surprised as her by the words that tumbled out of his mouth; he hadn't planned on saying them. _Well, it was either that, or an apology_, he thought. And Severus Snape did not apologise to anyone.

"Sir, that would be wonderful, thank you." She managed to force out. Her eyes were shining, and Snape knew that this was simply at the prospect of getting her hands on a pile of books she'd never read. He wondered for a moment what he had gotten himself into.

"Good evening, Miss Granger." He said, stepping back out onto the ledge.

"Sir?" She stepped up the window. "You may not have wings, but you can fly really well." She paused. "Thank you for teaching me how to fly."

He smiled down at the young Gryffindor, before reaching to touch her face gently. Then he kicked off the ledge and flew down to the Quidditch Pitch, a smile playing on his pale face.

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_How's that? A bit unexpected, but a bit of fun all the time!_

_It wasn't quite a chance meeting in the hall, **Velvet Storm**, but I hope you liked it anyway!_

_Keep on the edge there **Caitee**, and enjoy!_

_Got any hair left, **Severus-Fan**? I hope so, I didn't take toooo long!_

_**Taste's Like Home**, yes, I got the link figured, thank you so much, that site is just a scream! Thank you sooo much! And you're right, they do need each other!_

_Glad you're back, **showmethehobbit**!_

_Wow, thanks **sexiprincess1228**, hope it stays that way, LOL. I wanted to beat the crap out of him too, and I was the one making him do it. Oh, I'm so cruel_

_**Snape's opera rose**, did you end up emailing me? I don't think I got anything from you…_

_Yes, **JTBJAB**, it is the "I'm too sexy" video, and isn't it just the best? I cacked myself soo hard watching it, I really hope everyone else did too! And you're right about Hermione's feelings, though we'll find out more next chapter!_

_Will reply to more reviews in time!_


	21. Thoughts

_Hello! Long time, no post, it would seem! I haven't posted for a few days thanks to a GIANT media project that I had to complete, but it's now down and looking fantastic. I handed it in yesterday, thank you to everyone who wished me luck with that._

_Stick with me on this chapter, I'm really quite tired, but wanted to get something up, so I really hope that you can deal with it. Not much of a plot advancement, true to my style. It's more about why Hermione and Ron never hooked up, and what Severus' thinking about his invitation. I really hope you all enjoy it! Hopefully I'll be back to posting roughly a chapter every day as of now, I hope they get better!_

_Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, everyone who reads my story, I love you! Chocolate to all of you, and those who don't like chocolate, I have plenty of other things on offer!_

_Enjoy:-)_

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**Chapter Twenty-One**

Long after Professor Snape had vanished from her view, Hermione continued to gaze out over the castle grounds before her. Even when it became to dark to see all that much, she continued to look.

She was no longer sure what to think of her Potions Professor, who turned hot and cold whenever he saw fit to, with no explanation in between. Surly in the classroom, almost friendly when she was ill, icy when she had recovered, and now after taking her on a broomstick ride far above the school grounds, had offered her the use of his private book collection! Hermione didn't want to think about what would happen if she were to really venture down into the dungeons: would he turn into the icy man again.

Unconsciously touching her cheek where his hand had briefly lay, she couldn't help but imagine what it would be like, spending the evening in his rooms. Oh, the books he'd have! She could read, and learn so much. The assignments she'd be able to complete with such ease, such information. Perhaps, sometimes, he might even sit with her, she dared to think, and lend a hand in her work.

Hermione shook her head. As if that would occur, Professor Snape helping a student from _Gryffindor_, let alone perfectly capable of working on her own. He had only helped her at McGonagall's request, she imagined, while she was taken ill by the BlueCloud Fever. Yes, that's right, McGonagall must have asked him to look after her. And the only reason he had taken her on that flight this evening was... well, to be honest, she had no idea. Was it to make up from tossing her from his rooms?

Well, whatever the reason, she admitted to enjoying the flight very muchly. She smiled, thinking of the view she had witnessed from that height on a broomstick. It was something so beautiful she wasn't sure if it were real, the open landscape with the lowering sun flicking light and causing shadows across the world. And to share that type of experience with Professor Snape...

She wasn't sure to think about the idea that she had just been _flying_ with Professor Snape. Sure, she had done so in her dreams, but that wasn't really flying, nor something she even had real control over, she couldn't make the choice about whether she wanted to be there or not - tonight she had had the choice, and she had taken it. And it had been a most exciting experience. The shock of being seated so close to Professor Snape, having him hold on to her so tightly was replaced by the fear of soaring through the air around the pitch. If it hadn't have been for the arm wound around her waist, she was sure she would have fallen. But his deep voice whispering in her ear, coaxing her into looking around, seeing the beauty that surrounded them, had sent shivers running up and down her spine.

_No_, she quickly told herself, _it was only because of the view_. Nodding her head, only to herself, she worked hard to convince herself of this. But a knock of the door stopped her before she was able to convince her mind of such thing.

Opening the door, she was greeted by the worried faces of Harry and Ron.

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, as if he was surprised to see her. Which Hermione thought was very stupid, considering he had been knocking on her door. "When did you get back? We knocked on your door bout half hour ago, and you weren't here."

"Yes, so?" Hermione responded, feeling rather impatient. "I've had half an hour to return."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, how did you come back?" He asked. "We've been sitting in the common room, waiting for you. Wouldn't we have seen you?"

Hermione felt a cold flush hit her. How could she tell them that she had come back through her window; that she had been out flying with their most hated Professor. Knowing she couldn't, and feeling terrible about what she was about to say, she responded, "Sorry Harry, I've been here since dinner." She looked at the floor, hoping the boys would take her blush as the blush or hiding from them, not lying to them. "I just didn't feel like coming down to dinner, and I didn't really feel like being bullied into it." She shot a sharp look at Ron.

Harry gave her a small, knowing smile, which she chose to ignore, instead, turning and making her way back over to the window, where she perched on the window seat and turned back to gaze out at the night sky.

"Are you still upset about Snape?" Ron asked bluntly.

"_Professor _Snape." Hermione automatically corrected, as she had spent the past seven years doing.

"Yes, him." Ron sad shortly. "He's just an asshole, Hermione." He took a chocolate frog out of his pocket and unwrapped it.

"_Ron_." Harry warned, giving him a glare. Hermoine realized that neither of them had told Ron about their conversation they night before. She also knew that it wouldn't matter, the boy would never understand. She chose just to keep gazing out the window.

"Anyway, Hermione, we just thought we'd come and check up on how you are." Harry gave her a warm smile as she turned to face him, which she returned. "Did you want anything to eat? We could go down to the kitchens, if you want."

Hermione stood up and picked up her cloak. "No, thank you Harry, I should be making my rounds now." Quickly, she led the boys from her room, and locked the door with her own special spell. The Head Girl and Boy were able to lock the door with a spell that they desired, a spell they could share with their friends, if their friends ever need to access her rooms in an emergency. Shocking even her self, she was yet to inform Harry and Ron of both this fact, and the spell to her room. She did not have to fear them finding out without her telling them; after all, they'd never bothered to read _Hogwarts: A History_.

Bidding the boys goodnight, Hermione stepped through the Portrait Hall and out into the cold corridors of the castle. As Head Girl, she was required to make rounds of the corridors, and supervise the comings and goings of the students to make sure that there was no school rules being broken. Ron had once quipped that no one could do a better job then Hermione, as she knew every school rule three times over. She had told him that it was about time that he figured out a few for himself. Harry had just sat there and laughed at both of them.

Once, at the start of the year, Harry had attempted to tell Hermione that her and Ron should get together. After spending much time over the Summer with the boy, and seeing him through the other side of the war, Hermione had learnt just how immature the boy could be. Sure, she admitted that last year she had experience what may have been a crush on the boy - she had certainly been hurt when he'd started literally slobbering all over Lavender Brown - but now, she knew it had been for the best that she hadn't dated him. Through the war, while he had always been there for herself and Harry and all of the Order, Hermione found his judgment clouded too much for her liking, and too many times, when no one had been paying attention, he had done some foolish, rash things that had broken her feelings for him, let her see him only as a friend.

Yet, now that he was dating Karla from Ravenclaw, she was ever so happy that she had not followed Harry's suggestion, as he was happy with her. And she was happy with him, even if she was lonely. Too many evenings were spent in the library, even when she didn't have work to do. Ron and Harry were off with their girls, and she, having no one else, had only been able to turn to books and duty, as she always had.

Pushing those thoughts away, but not allowing them to turn to the evening's earlier activities, Hermione set off through the corridors, keeping an eye out for students as she went.

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Hours later, Snape settled himself into his leather couch, pulling a book open in his lap. Though his head being lowered to read, his eyes could not read the words on the page. His mind kept flitting to the flying experience, the only time he had ever shared a broom with another. He couldn't deny it had been a wonderful experience, having a young witch so close to him, hearing her excited shrieks as they flew together.

Yet, Snape couldn't help but wonder what had compelled him to do so, had given him the idea to teach a witch to fly, a witch who had never done so in her life, something she had once admitted, while laying in his bed that she was petrified of. He knew why she had agreed, the idea of learning something new.

But then there was the issue that he had offered her the use of his private books, to ask him any questions she wished to ask. What on earth had possessed him to do that, to _invite_ the annoying girl to invade his private rooms whenever she wished? Part of him hoped to all Hell that the witch would not be brave enough to enter his rooms. He snorted at that - a Gryffindor, not be brave, and one like her, not pass up the chance to learn? That was completely unheard of!

Most of him, however, wished that she _would_ come down into his rooms, sit with him and research. While she was ill, he had found that she had some amazing ideas and knew she longed to research them, in only she could get access to the books in the library. And now, he had offered her the chance to read every single one of the books that she longed for. It was without doubt that she would come, with the lure of the knowledge she would find within his rooms. Snape could not find much of him that was not liking the idea of opening his door to her. Only the fact that she was a student.

Severus Snape was not accustomed to spending time with females outside of his classroom that were students. In fact, he was not really accustomed to spending time with females at all. After this evening's flight, and the way he had felt his body react to holding the witch so tightly against him, he feared what would happen if she were to begin spending time in his rooms with him as an evening. A sick witch was one thing, but a healthy witch spending time with him because she wanted to was rare. He could not allow himself to react in any sort of way that did not involve a strict teacher/student relationship, the results would be disastrous.

Perhaps it would be best if he changed his mind, if he did not allow the witch to use his private domain. He couldn't risk it. But how to deter her?

Reaching for the bottle of firewhiskey that sat upon the table of his sitting room, he felt a wave of coldness rush over him.

The perfect weapon, he thought. The perfect deterrent. Coldness.

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_Wow... that last part feels pretty horrible, I don't like it. I wonder what's going to happen.._

_Hey, I heard a rumor via email that writer's aren't allowed to post replies to reviews along with their stories anymore, and it got me a little spooked, so I'm a little worried. Does someone want to email me and confirm if it's true or not. I feel a little silly, but, hey, you never know! I never usually listen to forwards, but as I'm not really sure of the FF stuff as of yet (despite 21 chapters now!), I just wanna be sure :-)_

_Thanks for reading!_


	22. Barely Contained

_This chapter's a little… lol, I don't really know. I hope you like it anyway._

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**Chapter Twenty-Two**

Beginning classes Monday morning, Hermione was glad to be back in the routine of school life. She preferred to know what was going to happen when, and where. She wasn't worried about being behind, despite missing her classes for a full week; she had Professor Snape to thank for that.

Professor Snape.

Hermione wondered what Potions would be like now. Despite spending an entire week with him and seeing his "nice" side, and him taking her on a breathtaking flight, she did not honestly expect him to give her any special treatment, after all, she was a Gryffindor. She also did not think that most of the school knew where she had spent the past week. From what she had picked up from people's questioning, they assumed she'd been locked up in the hospital wing. She couldn't help but giggle when she thought of the reaction people would have if they knew where she had really been – and the fact that it had not been the absolute torture most people would believe it would be.

Sitting down to lunch in the Great Hall, she glanced up to the Head Table, her eyes searching out the dark Potions Professor. She wasn't sure what the feeling was that rose in her when she found that he was not there, but she chose not to examine it. Instead, she turned to Ginny, whom she had not seen since the evening before.

"How are things going with Harry?" She asked conversationally.

"Great!" Ginny replied enthusiastically. "It's been kind of hard to spend _alone_ together lately thanks to all our homework and Quidditch, but I suppose half the fun is trying to get that time." She giggled into her lunch at memories Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to know about, just as the two boys descended upon the table, forcing the conversation to come to quick close.

Reaching over to grab some pasta, Ron turned to look at Hermione. "How are you feeling?" He asked, taking Hermione off guard. She had expected him to make some smart ass remark about her being up to date in her classes despite the time off.

"Fine, thank you." She replied. "Just a little tired."

Hermione hadn't been able to sleep right the previous night. Her mind had kept turning over the events of the flight, and when she had finally been lulled into a slumber, the dreams of the forest and blue sky had returned. Yet, these ones, she had no control over.

So she had watched with surprise when Professor Snape had approached her as she wandered around the forest. Despite his large black wings, he had been clutching a broomstick. Wordlessly, he had motioned for her to join him. With no hesitation she had, and in her dreams, they had again soared.

She had woken, feeling somewhat disgusted with herself for allowing her _dreams_ to wander into such places. But the flight she had experience had clearly left a mark on her.

After the mindless chatter that accompanied lunch, they trio had bid Ginny goodbye and headed up to Charms. Flitwick had graciously welcomed her back to his classroom, and Hermione found herself cutting him off before he mentioned where she had spent the past week, as she was certain that the faculty would have known. As the other members of the class would more then likely be listening, she did not wish to have them hear.

Charms had been easy enough, but Hermione buried herself in her work, and had done so until the bell rang, telling the students it was time to move on. And Potions was next.

Feeling slightly nervous, Hermione made her way down into the dungeons with Harry and Ron. Neither of them had mentioned Snape that day, and didn't seem to be ready to venture into the dungeon classroom. But then again, Hermione thought with a smirk, when did they ever want to go to Potions?

Stepping into the classroom, Hermione found that Professor Snape was not there yet. This did not worry her; she had learnt in her first year that the man preferred dramatic entrances. Sure enough, just as the last student had settled into their set and put their equipment, the office door opened with a bang, and a very sour looking Potions Master stepped out into the classroom.

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He did not want to teach. That was all. Simple as that. He couldn't deal with teaching today, yet here he was, standing before a class of seventh years, the same seventh years that had ruined his classroom just last week. He sighed, storming over to his desk to bark out instructions.

"Today you will be focusing on the Power Reducing Potion." He sneered at the class. "I must impress on you the absolute danger of such a potion, and the stupidity of the Ministry of Magic for putting it into a school curriculum. You lot have not shown me that you have the ability to brew such a dangerous potion, so you are going to spend the lesson on the theory of this potion. Get out your books and find the instructions NOW!" He barked, swinging around to his desk to fetch his own copy of the book.

During the little speech, he had seen Miss Granger's face light up at the thought of being allowed to brew such a potion, then fall again when he had told them all what he had. Oh, he knew that _she_ could brew such a potion without any help whatsoever right at this moment, but he would not give her the satisfaction of knowing such a thing.

Turning back to the class, he sneered. "Now, can someone telling me exactly what this potion is?" He asked. Annoyance rose as it usually did when Miss Granger's hand shot straight into the air within barely a second of him asking the class.

No, he would not give her the satisfaction.

"Potter!" He snapped, turning on the student's friend. "Tell me!" He demanded.

Potter dared to glare at him, which Snape only too happily returned. "The potion, _sir_¸" Potter began, "is a Power Reducing Potion, as you said; therefore it would reduce the powers of the drinker."

"Explain better." Snape demanded. Oh, how he loved watching this boy sweat. Miss Granger's hand was still waving in the air. Why hadn't she learnt, after seven years that he would _not_ call on her?

Snape waited hardly a moment before cutting off Potter's attempt to re-explain the potion. He called upon the class to help him out, but when no one answered him, only the infuriating waving of Miss Granger's hand, he snapped at the class to begin reading. "Take notes on just what each of the ingredients does. You are to write me two scrolls on what would happen to each of them if they were not added correctly. Longbottom, because of your display of inability from last week, I want _three _scrolls from you. Have it on my desk by Wednesday."

Giving a satisfied smirk when the hand lowered, he began to walk amongst the students, waving his wand to destroy any piece of work that did not fill his requirements, or contained a little mistake, forcing most of the students to start their work two or three times. At least the bloody class was silent.

It was not to his surprise that Miss Granger stepped up to his desk before the end of the class, and handed him the specified two rolls of parchment, filled with her neat writing. A wave crashed over him as he remembered producing that writing with his own hand. Not allow her to see him admiring her writing, he thrust the rolls open and while she stood there silent, began to read. Once he was finished, he re-rolled the scrolls, and sat them on the corner of his desk.

"Adequate." Was all he said. "You may return to your seat now, Miss Granger."

He watched her as she returned to her seat. It was with surprise that he noted the lack of emotion in her eyes. He had thought she would expect to be treated differently, probably thought herself above the rest of the class. Well, further above the class then she already was. But he had seen no evidence of that. She had hardly looked his way for the entire lesson, had not said a single word, and had not been at all surprised by his scathing tone when he had called her fantastic essay "adequate." For he knew it was fantastic, her work always was. Yet he would not allow her to grow the typical Gryffindor big head.

However, part of him wanted to praise her, to tell her how brilliant her work was, to let her brew the potion right then and there. What was going on there, he wondered, his eyes sweeping across the other students, most of who were scowling at their parchment, their books open. Miss Granger was sitting at her desk, a book open in front of her, and one arm holding her head up. He never wanted to praise students outside his own house; it was against his better judgement.

Once the time came, he was quick to dismiss the class and retreat to his private chambers. There lingered the same sense of loneliness that had settled Saturday morning, when Miss Granger had taken her leave of his chambers. On his command.

Cursing out loud, Snape shook his head. He would not allow his thoughts to travel down that path, no he wouldn't.

Yet, over the rest of the week, the sense of loneliness did not leave him or his rooms. At night, he found himself driven to stalk the corridors of Hogwarts, handing out detentions and deducting points whenever he could. He did not want to return to his chambers, did not want to think about why he did not.

Often he came across Miss Granger on his travels, and he had given her nothing more then a sneer in her direction. Mentally he had been belting himself for doing so; she would never come down and talk to him, work in his rooms, if he were to do that. Then again, something told him, that was the whole reason of this ridiculous behaviour from him, wasn't it? He didn't want that nosey little brat back in his rooms.

It was easy enough to assure himself of such a fact when it was day time and he was busy with classes, and he looked forward to his nightly solitude, his undisturbed peace, the quietness. But at night, when the time came and the solitude fell around him, longing came with it. He worked hard to convince himself it was simply because he missed having someone to talk to, it wouldn't matter who that someone was. Yet every time he longed for a conversation, he longed for a conversation with her, like the many that had had while she was ill.

By Advanced Potions Friday, he was furious with himself. During Wednesday's class he had been ever so tempted to ask her to stay behind after class, to ask her if she wished to take another flying lesson. Thursday evening at dinner he had seen her leave early, without her friends, and was considering following her and asking her if she wished to come and study in his private chambers.

McGonagall unfortunately noticed the darkened look that had come over his face when he had considered this option, and had turned to him to ask what the matter is.

"Nothing," he had replied, quite stiffly, watching Miss Granger leave.

Minerva must have noticed where he was looked, because she dared to ask if it had anything to do with Miss Granger. Trying to cover his fury at himself for wanting to ask her such stupid question, he had spun what he hoped was a convincing lie.

"I am simply furious at the little _witch_ for thinking it perfectly okay to use up my valuable time all week, and then not apologise for wasting my time, let alone actually thank me for all the help I gave her." He sneered.

"Now, Severus," Minerva looked over her square glasses at him, "are you sure you gave her the opportunity to thank you?" At this, Snape had turned on her, his mouth hanging open in pure fury. She had quickly back tracked. "I am simply suggesting that knowing you and your carings about your precious time, it would not have been surprising if you had removed her from your rooms as soon as she was able to walk properly." She gave him a smile. "It would not be like our Miss Granger to leave without thanking you."

Sputtering, he had left the table, knowing for a second that he hadn't actually fooled Minerva into thinking that he had given her plenty of time, and that Miss Granger hadn't actually apologising.

After class Friday, Snape had watched Hermione hurry from the room without as much as a glance at him. He was frustrated – how was he meant to be cold to her when she was being so indifferent to him? Sighing, he had made his way to dinner.

Thanks to the questioning the evening before, he took extra care in arranging his face in the correct evening I-Don't-Want-To-Be-Here Sneer, and did not once look at the Gryffindor table. If he had of, he found later, he would have seen a young witch looking up at him every few moments, trying to catch his glance.

If he had of, he might have had some pre-warning to the visitor he received later that night.

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_--yawn-- I think this chapter might have been a little affected by my own emotions, lol. And my tiredness._

_Yes, more psycho, flipping out, hot and cold Snape. He just doesn't know what he wants! I don't know how else to write what I want to say, so I hope you all like how I'm doing it :-) I just want to show the turmoil that Snape's suffering._

_It'll be good to see what happens next chapter, so stay tuned._


	23. Organ Freezing

_This is the shortest chapter I've written in a while, but please, try to enjoy it_

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**Chapter Twenty-Three**

Staring at the door before her, Hermione wondered if she had the guts to raise her fist to knock. The walk down had been an easy enough to complete, but now, that she had reached her destination, she hesitated.

She had not seen Severus Snape since dinner time an hour ago, and they had not spoken all week. Despite not expecting to do so, she could not help but admit to disappointment, though only to herself. Throughout the week, she had glimpsed him while on her Head Girl's rounds, but they had never approached each other. She didn't dare.

But his invitation had lingered in her mind, and now, that she had nothing to do as the boys and Ginny had Quidditch Practice, she decided o test it. It was Friday night and already ash hac completed all of her homework. She had gone to the library to try to research Organ Freezing Hexes and their counter curses, but had found nothing. Curious to know more about them after Professor Flitwick had mentioned them in class, she wondered if Professor Snape would have any information on them. Before she knew what she was doing, she had walked down to the cold dungeons.

Taking a breath, she pulled herself together and knocked on the heavy wooden door. Moments later, the door was pulled open by Professor Snape.

As he often had while she had stayed with him, he was simply wearing his black pants and top, his usual black billowing robes discarded. Much to Hermione's despair, it emphasised just how thin her Professor was.

Looking down on her, he raised an eyebrow. "To what do I owe this honour?" He drawled in his quiet, silky tones.

She found herself feeling suddenly very nervous, and afraid of what he would say. Taking another breath, she responded with, "I was hoping you may have some information for me." She watched as his dark eyebrow rose again. "You told me that I would be able to use your books at some stage," she was quick to remind him.

"Yes, I did tell you that, didn't I?" he stepped back, taking Hermione by surprise. "Come in," he beckoned her to her to follow him through his office. "Is this for class?" He inquired.

"No, sir," she said as they entered his sitting room. This was really only the third time she had been in this room, at least while conscious. It delighted her to see once again the entire wall filled with books. On the wall she could not see from his bedroom was another door, which she knew lead to a hallway, from which his private potions lab and another room branched off from.

"It's just something that Professor Flitwick mentioned, something I'd like to look further into." She explained as they stood in the warm room. In the corner of the room, between the door to his bedroom and the door to his hallway, a fireplace contained a beautifully burning fire. Upon the other side of the door, joining the wall that contained hundreds of books, sat more bookshelves yet. Hermione longed to read them all.

At her words, she found herself watching as his eyebrow rose yet again in a silent question. "Organ Freezing Hexes," she supplied the answer. "Or, more so, their counter curses."

"It is my belief, Miss Granger, that you would be wasting your time," he said smoothly. "There is no such counter curse to Organ Freezing Hexes."

She could mistake the tone in his voice, the tone that quite plainly told her what he thought of her idea. "I'm aware of the, sir," she struggled to keep her voice level. "Which is, in essence, the exact reasoning behind my wanting to research these Hexes." She watched him carefully, not sure what his reaction to such an idea would be.

"I do believe it has been quite sufficiently explore before, Miss Granger." He said, as he tuned towards the bookshelves. "However, if it will keep you quiet…" his voice trailed off before picking back up. "Did you not feel it was necessary to ask Professor Flitwick himself? This is, after all, his area of expertise."

Hermione felt anger rising within her at his words, which were so carefully crafted to make her feel like a first-year. "I thought it may have been nice to take up your offer first," she said, opting for the honest truth.

His body still facing the bookshelves, Snape's head turned to give her yet another raised eyebrow. She was quickly tiring of this expression. "What do you know of Organ Freezing Charms?" he asked. "They are not common _these_ days."

She caught the tightening of his voice and knew instantly what days they had been common in. Choosing not to dwell, she quickly responded, "I know they are a very difficult hex, the level of difficultness depending on the organ the hexer may wish to freeze, and for how long." She paused at these, and on seeing the slight incline of his head, continued on. "It involves the caster quite literally freezing an organ of the body, turning it to ice."

"However, it is not always lethal," Snape stated, reaching up for a book. "Can you tell me why that is?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione felt the familiar eagerness of answering a Professor's questions correctly rise. "While, yes, it can be lethal, depending on the organ frozen, as well as the strength of the caster. If he or she is weak, they may only be able to freeze one part of the body for say a few seconds. While this may cause extreme pain, the organ will thaw quickly with no lasting effects."

"Except for the memory," Snape murmured into the books startling Hermione. She was certain he hadn't meant for her to hear that. Quite suddenly he straightened up and moved over to where Miss Granger stood. "Why are you so interested in these?" He asked, his eyes meeting hers.

Hermione felt herself go red even before she had answered his question. "Well…" she began, unsure of how to continue without looking foolish. "I'm researching them for medical purposes. The creations of counter-curses, how else such hexes could be used and so forth." She mumbled, lowering her gaze to the floor.

She felt surprise surge through her once again, as Snape moved across the room and handed her a book. "You may find some of what you are looking for in this book," he told her. "However, I am busy; therefore do not wish to have a witch as yourself interrupting your work. More so, if anything happens to that book, you will pay quite dearly – I do not care that you are a student and I a teacher in regards to my personal books." He moved off towards the door which led to his lab. "Do see yourself out, Miss Granger, and have that book back to me by Sunday at the very latest." Without waiting for a response, he yanked open the door and closed with it with a snap.

Hermione looked at the book that she now held in her hands (_Eighteenth Century Hexes, Curses and Charms_), she couldn't feel anything but shock running through her body. Snape had just almost being civil, appearing to simply enquire information, instead of demanding it in his usual cruel fashion. Not only that, but he had leant her a book, a told her to she could borrow it for the whole weekend. Clutching it to her chest, she let herself out of his rooms and quickly hurried back to Gryffindor tower, where she instantly flung herself into her room, ready to begin her study.

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Leaning against the door of his potions lab, Severus Snape was furious with himself. Hadn't he vowed, at the start of the week to be _cold_ to her? If he had, what had happened this evening, when that resolve had apparently soared out the door and he had found himself being almost social with the young witch, even if it was on an academic level?

Growling in frustration, he made his way over to his cauldron, determined to make some Calming Potion, as the now-well Madam Pomfrey had requested. Unfortunately, he could not make this potion until he himself was calm, or his frustration would be embedded into the potion. So he began to pace back and forth across his lab floor, thoughts turning over in his head.

So the little witch was researching Organ Freezing Hexes! What for? As far as Snape was concerned, they could never do anyone any good. It just wasn't possible. Then again, he had always thought that it was never possible for a first year muggle born to have half the knowledge she contained in her head when she had first arrived at Hogwarts. How was it possible?

This wouldn't do, he was not calming, he thought as he took another turn and kept pacing his lab. He began to recite the ingredients of the potion in his head, thinking of when they had to be applied to the potion, going over it all again and again in his head. He pushed the idea of wishing Miss Granger was here to help him.

This wouldn't do, his mind sneered at him. He had wasted too much time this past week thinking of that little witch, he could not allow it to continue. But if she was going to really dare to turn up at his private chambers…

Why had he invited her, he thought, as strode across and back again. Why?

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Hermione spent the weekend reading, studying, noting. She found the book fascinating, and though beginning with studying Organ Freezing Hexes, began to note everything she possibly could from the book, filling pieces of parchment with her writing on different curses and hexes. Harry and Ron had become increasingly annoyed with her over the weekend, as she'd hardly step out of her room. She simply told them that she was studying for the upcoming N.E.W.T.S.

A funny jolt occurred in her stomach every time she thought of the final exams, and she knew that instead of studying these books, she should be studying for them instead, they were hardly a few months away. Yet, the lure of this book was too much; she'd never get another chance to read such a book. She kept telling herself that she'd start her studying in an hour or so, when she'd finished taking notes on Shrunken Head Curses, or when she'd done with reading up on Intoxicating Charms.

It had horrified her to read some of the curses that featured in the books. Many of them had been banned upon their creation, and then forgotten about it. There was so much out there she realised that she didn't know, and the more she read, the more she craved knowing.

After dinner Sunday night Hermione felt as though she had written out most of the book, and was feeling really quite pleased with herself. Knowing she should return the book to Snape before too late, she quickly stood and hurried from the common room before anyone could protest, clutching the book tight.

Making her way down to the dungeons, she just wondered what type of Snape she would meet tonight. Giggling, she thought of his different personalities, he almost had one for every day of the week. Fearing that she would meet a grouchy one, she planned to make the visit very short, just returning the book, thanking him and dashing again.

She definitely did not count on meeting a very happy, but really, very drunk, Severus Snape.

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_Very odd chapter, I know. Moves a little too fast on the second part, I know. _

_Hopefully you'll find the Organ Freezing Hex interesting, I've no idea where that came from to be honest!_

_Snape's little scene is very confusing I've been told, but this is leading up to the next chapter, and explaining just why he is rather drunk!_

_I hope you all like a drunk Snape!_


	24. Shivers and Drink

_Sorry on the day-delay – my net crashed last night just as I was about to post, grr! But then I thought of some things to add to this chapter, so I guess it worked out alright. Was planning on writing another one for tonight, but just didn't seem to happen –cries--_

_This chapter is actually based sort of on an experience for me… a friend of mine who sort of is like Snape got very drunk one night, and was just being sooo random. I thought maybe Snape would be a little like that too. Who knows?_

_Quick thanks to all those who pointed out the orange mistake from last chapter, my most humble apologies!_

_Also want to welcome back **Kiki**¸ who hasn't reviewed for ages, but now has! I've missed your quirky reviews!_

_Enjoy!_

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**Chapter Twenty-Four**

When Snape answered the door with a smile, Hermione wondered what had happened and if this man really was Professor Snape. For he certainly did look different with a smile on his face. It was his deep voice that confirmed his identity.

"Finished with my book?" he asked, his eyes taking on a glazed appearance as he seemed to try to focus on her.

Stunned by the man who stood before her, once again wearing only his black pants and top, Hermione wasn't sure what to say, so opted for simply holding out the tick book to him. Not taking the book, he turned on his heel and strode unsteadily through his office, leaving her standing in the doorway. Unsure, she followed him into his sitting room.

Sitting upon the table, amongst the many books, there was an almost empty bottle of amber liquid. With her knowledge, and Snape's state, she knew at once it alcohol, but she was unable to identify it further. Next to that, however, sat another bottle of the same size and shape; The only difference being that this one was empty. Hermione took this as a bad sign. Just how drunk was her Professor? And what would he do to her, now that she was in his rooms? She dreaded the amount of points that would most likely be deducted from Gryffindor tonight.

"Where do you want me to put the book?" She asked, holding it up for him to see.

"On the shelf," he waved one hand over to the wall filled with books, while his other hand reached for the bottle with the amber liquid in it. He was still standing, and tipped slightly. Hermione automatically reached out to steady him. Once this was done, she quickly pulled her hands away from him as if burnt. He appeared not to have noticed, and she wondered if he just didn't want to mention it.

"Are you okay, Professor?" she asked.

His lip curled. "Fine, Miss Granger." The sneer quickly faded from his face. "Did you find what you wanted to about Frightening Ogre Curses?" He asked, sinking into the handsome leather couch.

"Organ Freezing Hexes, sir." She corrected quietly.

Again his hand fluttered in the air. "Yes, them." He paused. "Nasty things them, had one put on me once." He raised the bottle to his lips again, but not before Hermione caught the dark look that crossed his pale features. Shock ran through her body as she remembered what he had said Friday night "_except for the memory_".

An awkward silence filled the space around them before she broke it. "Well, sir, I'd best be leaving you." She turned towards the door.

"No, do stay!" She heard him say quickly. "It's been… quiet down here this past week, and the Hog's Head is closed."

He wanted her to stay? Hermione wondered briefly if the two bottles on the table were in fact not the only two that he had consumed. "You could not go to The Three Broomsticks?"

Much to her surprise, he threw his head back and laughed a deep, rich sound. "I? In The Three Broomsticks?" Dear girl!" He chuckled some more.

She felt herself growing hot with anger at his words. "I forgot, sir, that such a place would be _below_ you." She replied scathingly, then instantly regretting it. Oh, what would he do to her now?

He laughed again. "No, no, you've got it all wrong!" He chuckled. "I just know that Sybil Trelawny has a habit of haunting that particular pub on Sundays, and she'll have a go at anything once she's had some mead."

Unbidden, Hermione allowed herself a smile at these words. "Bad experience?" She asked, and was greeted by a grimace from the drunken Professor. Silence then fell over then, as Snape bought the bottle to his lips again. Hermione wondered why the hell she was still there. Gathering her courage, she moved to sit in one of the green leather armchairs.

The silence this time was broken by Snape letting out a hiccough as he moved to take another drink. Consequently, the amber liquid slopped down his front as his body jumped when the sound erupted. At this, Hermione couldn't help but giggle. The Great Potions Master of Hogwarts, making a complete mess of himself? When he looked up to meet her eyes, however, she quickly tried to smother the giggles. But it was already too late.

His reaction was certainly not what she was expecting; he dripped a little liquid out of the bottle onto his fingers, and then proceeded to flick them at her, causing the alcohol to land on her.

"Professor!" She squealed, noticing the huge grin on his face. Doing so, she also noticed that his usually so pale complexion was gaining a little more colour. She honestly didn't think it was possible for him to be any colour but pasty white. But then again, she had never thought about Snape getting drunk and giggling. She was certainly leaning new things about the man everyday.

"Teach you to giggle," he grumbled. Hermione waited for the deduction of points, but it never came. Fleetingly, she wondered if it were at all possible for an impostor to be taking Snape's place. But then, noticing the alcohol soaking through her dusty pink jumper her thoughts were pulled away from this. Disgusted, she pulled her wand from her pocket and quickly cast a cleaning spell. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him do the very same. Only he was holding his wand the wrong way and it didn't work.

His brow furrowed at this, an expression Hermione had seen many times before. Standing, she moved over to him, gently taking his wand from his hands.

"No!" He snapped at her.

"Sir," she persisted. He sneered, but gave in.

A look of disgust crossed his face. "I hate being called '_sir_'." He snarled. "Reminds me of my father. He was _sir_ I am…" he paused, thinking hard. "A Hogwarts Professor." He concluded, sounding confused.

"You'd like students to refer to you simply as 'A Hogwarts Professor'?" Hermione couldn't resist, for once raising an eyebrow at him.

"No, it's just that…" his voice trailed off again. He looked at her thoughtfully. "You're a very intelligent witch."

Looking at him, startled, Hermione wondered where this had come from. "Um… thank you." She didn't dare end with "sir", just to be on the safe side. Her thanks were greeted by a glazed smile.

Shaking her head, she could not begin to comprehend the absurdity of the situation. Yet, once she recovered from her initial fear, she felt herself becoming quite comfortable. She really did enjoy spending time with Snape, and this sloshed Snape was proving to be a giggle, even if he was a puzzling one.

"You could go far." He nodded at her, his black hair falling in front of his face as he slouched down on his seat. "Or, you could stay here and work with me. Silly me." He giggled at her. "Silly, drunk me."

She attempted to give him a stern look. "Yes, just how much have you drunk?"

The look of concentration that flitted across his face looked like it almost hurt him. "Well, I started with a shot glass, yes, yes, and that lasted the first bottle. Then I lost it when I went to make my potion…. Potion!" He suddenly flung himself up, but lost balance and tipped over the table, landing with her hands down, almost knocking the bottles flying. Several books did hit the floor though.

"Potion?" She asked, rushing to help him up as he giggled.

"Teaching tomorrow, Hermione, teaching tomorrow!" He waggled a finger at her as she fought to keep him steady. "Can't teach with a hangover, but I have to, because the stupid drink told me to forget about the potion, to sit down, to…" he giggled again, his hair once again shrouding his face. He reached for the bottle. Hermione attempted to take it first, but he was too quick, even in his drunken state. "No! You're a student, you're _underage_"

"I'll have you know that I'm actually 18 and a half years old, old enough in either the wizarding or muggle world to do as I please." She replied. "Now, what potion? Were you making a hangover potion?"

Tipping again on his feet, he leaned in close to her. She could smell the alcohol on his breath; it was a sweet, citrus-type smell. Not at all what she expected Snape to be drinking. His breath tickled her neck as he leaned in so that their faces were barely centimetres apart. "I'll give you extra credit if you brew me a hangover potion." He whispered in his ear.

Hermione was shocked to hear the seduction in his voice, despite the words. It took her breath away, before she quickly scolded herself. "I'll do it, but not for the points. Surely, if I didn't, my house would lose more then ten points tomorrow." She replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

His hands run up her arms, before he giggled yet again, and then stood back. "Come here, lab!" He called out, swaying on the spot. "Oh yeah, I forgot that doesn't work here…" he sighed, then took a swig of the bottle. "We go to lab." He spun around with great difficulty, and made his way over to the door leading to his private lab.

She was completely unsure what to do. Her senses were telling her to run, to turn around, to go back to her Common Room and forget that she'd ever seen the drunken Snape. Forget about the way he had giggled, the way he had so seductively invited here into his lab. Oh, the chance to brew up a potion, any sort…

Quickly, her mind went over the pros and cons of the situation. There weren't many cons, she found, as she would be saving Hogwarts from a very irritable Potions Professor tomorrow, for surely he would be Hell to deal with in such a state. Along with the chance to brew the potion, Snape was being much more open, willing to talk. He'd mentioned his father! Despite it truly falling into the category of her taking advantage of the situation, she wondered what else he would say in this state.

Making her decision, she followed him into the lab. She found herself liking the room the first time she had stepped in, while she was ill. It was filled with cauldrons, ingredients, flasks and everything one could need for potion making. Along one wall there was a shelf, which was filled with thick black books. Since they were separated from the books in the rest of the quarters, she could only think that they were his personal potion making journals. Oh, what she wouldn't give to get her hands on them! Imagine all the experimenting he'd done!

Attempting to snap out of her little daze, she turned to the Professor, who was standing over a cauldron. "Funny that," he was saying vaguely. Then he turned to her, and tried to take on a professional look. "Miss Granger," his voice was quite slurred by this stage, "I wish for you to make me a simple cure for hangover potions. Do you know any?"

She nodded, still rapt with being in his private lab again. "Just one."

His glazed eyes looked at her. "Begin." Then he snorted with laughed. "How silly does that sound? Do I really do that at the start of every class?"

Choosing not to answer, Hermione made her way over to the supplies and gathered up what she needed, listening to Snape giggle and talk in the corner. Until he came out with "I hate snakes, did you know that?"

For a moment, she turned to face him. He was slumped in a chair in the corner, his head resting against his chest, looking out at her through the curtain of his hair.

"Yet, you are in Slytherin." She commented dryly, returning to her potion.

"Mmm, only because I don't care about other people, I like small dark spaces and I'm cunning, and I know exactly how to get what I want… and usually get it." Before she could do anything, he was over next to her, his hands on her hips. "I can get anything I want, Miss Granger," he whispered in her ear. Against her will, her body shivered in response, until she realised the complete stupidity of the situation. She gently pushed his hands off of her hips.

"I'm sure you can," she whispered, returning to the potion.

"Unless it involves bloody Potter." He snarled, returning to his seat.

She turned her head to face him, her eyebrow quirked up. "Which Potter is this?"

He laughed. "Smart little witch." He paused. "I don't know. Both." His hands fluttered in the air in front of him. "They're just as annoying as each other. Only, one of them, I'm legitimately allowed to punish." He laughed again. "Oh, how I hated that boy. James the Fucking Perfect Potter. He started my hate for Gryffindors, you know? Thought he was _so_ wonderful. Of course, because he was in the 'good' house, no one ever gave him a second look. Me, being in Slytherin, because of my mind, because of my family… I hate my family too, now that I think about it."

Hermione wondered how much she'd be hearing, and was fascinated to finally be learning about her Professor's life when he trailed off again, standing up and moving around the room.

"Everyone said I should have been Ravenclaw." She said quietly, stirring the potion.

She heard, rather then saw the smirk. "Yes, well, you are extraordinarily talented. But you're also brave… who else would be brave enough to spend a week with the evil, greasy bat Potions Master, to stay in his bed and let him take care of them?" Once again, she felt him right behind her, felt his warm breath on her neck. "Do _you_ think I'm an evil, greasy bat?" He asked, his voice a deep purr.

_Oh no, we're back to this_ she thought. Her breath caught as he stood behind her, and she was loss for what to say. Finally, she came up with, "No, I do not see you as an evil, greasy bat," she whispered, trying to focus on her potion, but finding it hard with him standing barely centimetres behind her, quite drunk. "Remember, I saw you with feathered wings, not bat wings."

Surprisingly, he let out a great laugh at this. "You are too right. And we flew together, didn't we?"

Hermione's mind caught at the memories – she wasn't sure whether he was referring to the dreams she had had while affected by the potion, or the evening they had soared in the open air upon broomstick. "Yes, we did fly." She murmured, feeling a hand brush against her waist. Remembering the way his arm had felt wrapped around her waist that evening on the broomstick, she didn't push it away. When he did step back though, feelings of shame washed over her body.

"Beautiful…" he whispered, as he stepped back. She tried to tell herself that he was talking about the potion, and nothing else. Not daring to turn around, she heard him returning to his seat in the lab. "I would like to really teach you how to fly." He stated clearly.

"That would be nice," she commented, turning her full attention to the potion in front of her.

Just before she'd finished, however, he got up and abruptly stumbled out the door. Too busy to leave the potion, she let him go. Once she had finished the brewing, she quickly bottled some, and cleaned up the area where she had been working.

Making her way out into the sitting room carrying a flask of the light green potion, she found it empty, much to her surprise. Looking around, bewildered, she found the bedroom door was wide open. Stepping over the threshold, she noticed one Professor Snape passed out on his bed, fully clothed, what was left of the alcohol spreading into a wet stain on his beautiful green bedspread. Unable to believe the situation she'd gotten herself into, Hermione knew that she couldn't leave him just like that. Moving to the bed, clicking her tongue, she picked up the bottle and cast a cleaning spell on the bedspread.

Placing the flask on his bedside table, Hermione mused on just how ironic the entire situation was. Wasn't it only two weeks ago that he'd been helping her into this bed, caring for her? And now was her chance to repay him.

As she reached down to wake him up, he woke up himself. His first reaction was to hit what was in front of him, but thankfully she realised when he raised his hand sluggishly. But in dropping to avoid the hand, she fell onto the bed next to him. He rolled onto his side, and she feared what would come next, but he was asleep again. Daringly, she took a moment to study his face. His complexion was now red, and even to Hermione it was getting too warm in the room. She couldn't let him sleep like this…

For the third time that night, she gathered up all her courage, and stood up before her Professor. "Sir?" she called. "Professor Snape?"

Her callings were answered by a small snort as he woke up, and a mumble of "no…"

"Come on, Professor, you need to get into bed." She said, feeling herself go bright red at the words. He obediently dragged himself from where he was, and made his way over to the other side of the bed. Before she could stop him, he began to unbutton his shirt, revealing his thin body.

_Oh God!_ She thought, and found herself frozen in spot. She couldn't leave, he was so drunk, and he might hurt himself. Yet here he was undressing himself with her in the room. Praying that he could stop at the top, she was horrified when his top slid to the floor, showing off every inch of skin, and his hands moved to the top button of his pants.

"Professor!" She quickly jumped in. "I think you'll be fine like that." She moved to his side and helped him into the bed. At least he had stopped with the annoying giggling, he was now dead silent, and his eyes looked incredibly droopy.

He was asleep before he lay down properly.

Hermione hoped that he was so drunk that he wouldn't remember anything in the morning, hoping he wouldn't remember the way he had seductively whispered in her ear… oh no, here she was thinking about this again. Sighing, she set the potion on the beside table. Then, on a rash decision, she leaned down a planted a small kiss on his forehead, as her mother used to do to her all the time.

Realisation of what she'd just done shook her, and she fled the dungeons.

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_Bad ending, I know. Next chapter, does he remember?_


	25. Memories Or Lack Of

_I've kept this chapter this short for a reason, I just wanted you all to see what Hell poor Severus is going through. Hope you like this chapter!_

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**Chapter Twenty-Five**

Teaching was the last thing on Severus Snape's mind when he woke Monday morning. His head was throbbing terribly and his mouth and throat felt as though he had exposed them to Blast Ended Skrewts – dry and burnt.

Groaning and struggling to sit up in bed, he wondered why he had allowed himself to drink into a ridiculous stupor. When the image of a young Gryffindor witch crept into his fatigue fogged mind, his body gave way he flopped unceremoniously back onto the bed, bringing his hands up to squash against his eyes, fighting the images to leave. Despite knowing he should get up and prepare for the day ahead, he chose to lie still in the warmth of his bed. Dragging his hands from his face, it was then that he noticed the flask sitting quietly beside his bed. AT once he was incredibly thankful that even in his drunken state; he had remembered to brew a hangover potion.

Yet it was with a frown that he realised that he actually could not remember brewing the potion. Examining his mind, he realised that he couldn't really remember anything beyond early evening, when he opened his third bottle of fire whiskey.

Despite his head screaming for relief he was still hesitate in his examination of the potion. Just by smelling it he could tell what was in it, and he knew it to be a potion for dealing with hangovers. With a sigh, he took a mouthful. Within moments, he felt his headache dissolving, and his throat felt as thought it would actually work. With another sigh, this one of relief, he pulled himself out of bed and made for the bathroom.

Turning the shower on to hot, his hands moved to undo his pants and he couldn't hide his shock at finding that he was still wearing his black pants from yesterday. No matter how drunk he'd been, it had been a long time since he'd left them on. Maybe he'd been worse then he thought.

It was while he was in the shower that he remembered that Miss Granger was meant to return his book last evening. As warm as the shower was, he felt as though ice was slipping through his veins at this recollection. Had she come to his rooms last night and seen him in the state that he was? Oh, how he hated having black outs in his memory.

He could only hope that he had either been passed out, or simply too drunk to walk in a straight line to answer the door. He didn't dare hope that the witch had not returned the book – it was Miss Granger after all. The book would have been returned on time, in exactly the same condition that it had left in.

After his shower, he stepped into the living room, hoping that he wouldn't see _Eighteenth Century Hexes, Curses and Charms _in its usual spot upon his shelves. When he did see it, he could hardly suppress the howl of anguish that rose from him. She had been here, last night, during a period which he could not remember. What might have happened? Desperately, he racked his brains to find an answer, some sort of answer, but nothing came, causing another howl want to burst forth from his chest.

His entire weekend had been plagued mercilessly by the little wench, whether she intended it to or not. As cold as his exterior had been Friday night, he had been somewhere… excited by the presence of her, the idea that she would voluntarily make a trip down here. These thoughts jolted something in his mind… _"who else would be brave enough to spend a week with the evil, greasy bat Potions Master, to stay in his bed and let him take care of them?"_

Knowing the words, he tried hard to focus on where they had been said. Had he said them? Had she said them? Maybe someone else had said them? The harder he thought about it, the further the problem seemed to be sliding away from him until he could hardly remember the words.

Since he couldn't remember brewing the potion, he decided to check on his lab before ascended to the Great Hall to join the school in breakfast – his body needed the food to help settle it after the trauma it was put through the evening before.

Pushing open the door to his lab, he was relieved to find everything was where it should be, there were no messed. He had once come in one morning after a very entertaining evening at Hog's Head to find he had mistaken the lab for another room within his suite, and had been forced to clean up a puddle. While it was simple to do this, the fact that he had been forced to do so put him off drinking for a while.

The thought hit him though, what if he had done that when Miss Granger had been in his presence? He had no idea how long she might have been around, had he only greeted her drunkenly at the door, and then shooed her off? Or had he done what he had been thinking about all weekend – inviting the little minx into his quarters to see what she had found out about the Organ Freezing Hexes. He was very interested in them, being as he was one of the few people within the last hundred years to know what they were really like.

The idea that she had wished to research those rare hexes had intrigued him indescribably. But instead of talking to her, asking her what she had found, what she intended to do, if she needed a hand, he had drunk himself blind, and now couldn't remember a thing, except that she had been there, and those bloody words.

Leaving his room and mounting the stairs that would take him to the Great Hall, Snape wondered if the young woman would be at breakfast. Oh, yes, over the weekend, she had progressed to young woman. He wasn't sure why, or even how, but after her visit Friday night, he had begun to see her in a much different light, and much to his disgust, he found himself liking her in this light.

Friday's visit to retrieve the book was just what his mind had not needed. It was a reminder of the week she had spent in his rooms ill, the week in which they had spent evenings talking and sitting. It was with much frustration that he had spent the weekend missing that time again, knowing he shouldn't miss it, that it was ridiculous. By Sunday the frustrations had gotten so bad that he had turned to the bottle to attempt to get some rest from his mind. Except now he couldn't remember anything.

Hoping that he wouldn't be greeted by the face of a traumatised Miss Granger, Snape strode into the Great Hall, where students were milling around. He was again thankful for the Hangover Potion, as if he hadn't have taken it, surely the racket the students were making would have killed him then and there. Careful not to break his stride, despite the dull pain that sometimes still bothered him, he strode to the Head Table where he took his usual seat and began to survey the great room before him.

His eyes were drawn directly to Miss Granger, who sat at the Gryffindor table amongst her usual friends. He almost let out a sigh of relief when he saw that she did not look traumatised. Perhaps the visit had only been brief then, perhaps she had only seen him for a moment, like he hoped so badly. He did not want to ask her, but he knew that he had to find out what had happened the evening before.

Teaching that morning was incredibly extra-stressful for Snape, as his mind was elsewhere, trying so hard to remember something that seemed so far out of reach. Points were deducted here, there and everywhere as students made even the tiniest mistakes. Even Slytherin lost a fair few points – Snape had given up favouring his own house as of this year, knowing what slimy, evil bastards they would grow into. He should know, he always thought. He had become one of them bastards himself.

As students whined silently to their peers of the points deduction, another memory slipped unseen into Snape's mind. Him, leaning in close to Miss Granger, his hands on her arms. Her soft voice telling him "I'll do it, but not for the points. Surely, if I didn't, my house would lose more then ten points tomorrow." Scrabbling, he tried to remember more, but this memory was more then enough to make him want to rip about the Ravenclaw chit that just spilt Herrow clippings over the floor. But instead, he deducted more points in his silky tones.

What the hell had been going on, for him to stand so close to her, to _touch _her, to have her him that she would do something for him, because he had offered her points? What had he offered her, that if she had of refused, her house would have suffered at his hands because of that. Shaking with terror, terror he had not felt all year, he needed to know what he had done to her, if he had given in to what he had come to recognise as desire. He had only thought he had desired her mind, to really get to know her and just what depth of knowledge she could expand to?

In his drunken state, had that attraction grown physical? Had he offered her…?

He retched at the thought of that, offering her that in exchange for points. Even he wouldn't do that, would he? Oh, he wouldn't?

By the time Advanced Potions with the seventh years came about, Snape was ready to shred anyone who looked at him wrong. He felt so terrible that he might not have been fit to teach, need he not find out what happened the night before. During the day, his mind had allowed him the memory of him standing by his bed, his hands at his waist, she was nearby. His nails had just about clawed right through his desk at this thought. _What had he done to her?_

He watched the class enter with black, glittering eyes. He could not help but pay particularly close attention to Miss Granger as she crept through the room and places her things on the desk in front of her. She did not look any worse for wear, he was sure of it now. Something in his chest jumped. Surely that meant that he hadn't… that he couldn't have…

Standing, he barked out instructions to the small class before beginning his ritual of sweeping around the dungeon, making sure they were working from the correct pages, that they had the right ingredients. He purposefully left the visit to Miss Granger's desk last.

When he finally arrived, another searing memory crossed his mind, as he stood behind her, watching her. Instantly he knew he had stood like this only last night, except somewhere else. His own lab. He had stood behind he, watching her. Except his hands…

Clenching them by his side, he barked "Miss Granger, I want to see you after class!" before sweeping back up between the rows and coming to rest behind his desk. He saw the worry in her eyes as she studied him. He knew now that she was the one who had brewed the Hangover Potion, not him. Which meant she had spent quite some time with him the evening before. His mind begged him to reassure him that he had not touched the girl anymore then what he had just remembered, that he had not done anything inappropriate.

As the class packed up an hour later, and the chits left - with a sympathetic glance towards Hermione, he noted – that he knew that he would find out.

He just wasn't sure if he was ready for what he was about to hear.

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_How was that? Any good? Next we'll hear just what Hermione thought of the whole situation afterwards, and what's going to happen now? Severus is very curious about this young Gryffindor now…_


	26. Explaination

_Hello! Another chapter, this one the explanation, I hope you like it! I might have another chapter up by tonight, I can only hope!_

_Please forgive me for any errors in names/spelling!_

_Enjoy it!_

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**Chapter Twenty-Six**

It was with great caution that Hermione approached Professor Snape's desk after class. She had spent all day worrying about whether or not the Hangover Potion had worked or not - it was one she had never attempted before beyond theory. And Professor Snape was looking a little worse for wear that day. She hoped she hadn't messed up too badly - maybe she'd only added a little too much essence of mintrice to it, causing the main ingredient, Liondry, to pose its potency.

But then again, she thought with a smile, there was only so much one could do with a drunk Professor wandering around behind you.

Somehow though, she didn't think that would go down terribly well with the man who sat before her. "Miss Granger," he began, his voice a mumble.

"Yes, sir?" she asked politely.

"About last night…" he looked around the empty room, appearing nervous. "I was hoping… that you could refrain from telling anyone about what you may have witnessed last night - that you haven't told already."

She cleared her throat. "I've not told anyone, sir." She said quietly.

"I hope that you keep it that way," he murmured. "However, I must ask… that you tell me what happened last night."

Hermione's eyes flew wide at this. He didn't remember! Somehow he knew that she had been there, but he didn't remember anything else. She almost giggled, but managed to hold back from doing so when she saw the look on her Professor's face.

He was scared.

"You do not remember, sir?" she asked quietly.

"Not for the first time in my life, Miss Granger, no." He gave her might have passed for a smile before a shadow passed over his face and he turned his attention to the many jars that lined the dungeon walls. "Well, that is not entirely correct. I do remember some things."

"Would you tell me what you remember?" she asked gently. "I'll fill in the blanks."

He appears to think this over, his eyes still playing over the jars before looking at her again. "I do not remember much. I was granted the memory of you telling me you would do something, but not for points. I remember me holding onto your arms at one point. I remember someone saying something about a Greasy bat at another point." He paused, and Hermione watched colour appear on his deathly pale cheeks. "I… I… I, uh, I also remember standing behind you, watching you brew a potion - my Hangover Potion, I presume?" She nodded in confirmation before he continued. "I remember my hands… on your waist." He swallowed convulsingly and Hermione wondered if it was out of disgust for himself doing so, or the fact that it had been _her_. "I also remember standing by my bed about to undo my pants, with you there." He let out a small bark that might have been a bark, a far cry from the giggles she had heard the night before. "That is all. I was hoping, Miss Granger… that you could tell me if I well, misbehaved, to put it, in your presence, last evening?"

She gave him a wistful smile. "No sir, you did not _misbehave_." His head snapped up and he gave her a piercing look. "All of those things were... innocent," she chose her words carefully. While some of his actions may have been not so acceptable, she had understood later that it had simply been effects of the alcohol he had consumed, and had therefore refused to them bother her. But how could she explain that to him?

Snape cleared his throat. "Miss Granger, I find it incredibly uncomfortable having gaps in my memory. I would greatly appreciate it if you were to actually tell me what happened." He waved his hand at a chair near his desk. "Sit if you must!"

Hermione sat in the seat and turned to face her Professor. "Where would you like me to start, sir?" She asked, feeling nervous. How would he react?

"Anywhere, Miss Granger!" He snapped, causing Hermione to jump. "Just tell me what happened!"

"Well," she started, taking a deep breath. "I came to return your book, just after dinner. I arrived at your office to find you, well... drunk, sir. Instead of taking your book back, you just walked back into your chambers. I, well, I followed you." She ducked her head, not wanting to meet her eyes. "After putting your book back, I went to leave, but you stopped me. You told me that it was too quiet." A dark look passed over his face and Hermione wondered if it had just been the alcohol talking when he said that, or if he had really meant that. Pressing on, she told him about the conversation up until he remembered the potion.

"You offered me points if I would brew the Hangover Potion for you." She mumbled. She did not want to tell him about the seductive tone he had used to make the offer, the tone that had sent shivers up her spine. "That was when I told you that I would do it, but not for the points." A red tinge filled her cheeks. Repeating what she had said to him was much harder now that he was sober.

"Ah, that would add up correctly," he said stiffly, as if he did not believe her. Anger filled Hermione. What choice did he have? There was no one else in Hogwarts who could tell him!

Keeping herself in perfect control, she continued with her telling him of what happened. When she reached where he had talked about being a Slytherin and hating Potters, he had let out a snort. "Well, it's true," he muttered. Yet he drew in a sharp breath when she mentioned him putting his hands on her waist. Once again, she left out the seductive tone.

When she mentioned referring to himself as an evil, greasy bat, she fought to keep her voice steady.

"And what did you say, Miss Granger?" He asked in a velvety voice, his black eyes glittering.

"I told you that I do not see you as an evil, greasy voice, sir. After all, in my dreams from the fever, I did see you with feathered wings." She watched as a satisfied smirk slipped across his face. "That was when you had your hands on my hips again," she told him quietly and watched as he flinched. Not giving him time to make a remark, she plunged on.

When she reached the part where she had helped him into bed, Hermione watched as relief settled over him. She quickly finished up, hoping he wouldn't notice the red tinge in her cheeks at leaving out one small detail. She stood, preparing to leave, but he stopped her.

"What have you not told me," he asked quietly, rising from behind his desk, dark and menacing.

_Shit_, Hermione though, gazing at the floor. "Just before I left you," she whispered, her eyes focusing on a piece of beetle skin that lay by her feet. "I just..." she shrugged.

"Out with it!" He snapped, his voice rising. "What did you do? What did you touch? Stupid little Gryffindors like yourself just can't help themselves." He sneered at her.

Heat rose into her cheeks at his words. "Professor, I did nothing of the sort," she informed him, fighting again to keep her voice calm. "I kissed you on the forehead and left."

There. It was out.

Surprise showed on his face before he managed to close off again. "Is that all?" He asked stiffly. At her nod, he too nodded. "Thank you for your assistance, Miss Granger." He smoothed his robes and unbidden, a image of his naked chest flashed quickly through her mind. "You may leave now, surely your _friends_ are waiting for you."

It took everything in her not to glare at him when a sneer appeared as he mentioned her friends. "Yes, sir," she said, looking directly into his black eyes. "However, I was hoping that I would be able to at some stage visit your book collection again. I was hoping to read about some more curses."

The sneer stayed on his face. "And why would you, Miss Granger, be so interested in Dark Magic." His voice took on that dangerously quiet edge

Hermione swallowed. "I believe there may be other uses for them, if properly used." She dared to tell him.

"Surely you have enough studying to do, with your NEWTs coming up."

"Yes, sir, I have." She agreed, annoyed at the insinuation. "Which also means that my time at Hogwarts is coming to a close, so I was hoping to do as much studying as possible." Upon saying this, she felt her throat tighten. She did not want to think about leaving the castle for good, she still wasn't entirely sure what she wanted to do. Like the boys, once upon a time she had briefly considered becoming an Auror, but seeing the aftermath of the war, and the way the Ministry of Magic had bungled things up, even up the guide of Rufus Scrimgeour, she had decided against it.

"I suppose I can allow you the use of my books," Professor Snape said quietly. "However, your studying with have to take place down here." His nostrils flared. "I do not wish to have my private book collection dragged through the school."

It was with great effort that Hermione bit back a retort. He must have seen it because he smirked at her. "If you are still interested, you may do extra study of an evening, depending on my commitments as a Hogwarts Professor and what homework you have."

"Thank you, sir." She said breathlessly. "I won't take up too much of your time." At his nod, she turned and left the dungeon classroom.

Rushing up to dinner, Hermione could hardly believe that Snape had given her permission to use his books. While, yes, he had done so last week, she was sure he could have taken the invitation back after being so drunk in front of her. But he, like her, appeared to have taken his actions fairly well. She was so angry that her blushing had given away what she was most certainly not going to tell him. But now, he was going to allow her to use his private books.

Entering the Great Hall, she rushed over to where Harry, Ron and Ginny were seated. Lowering herself beside Ron, she found three pairs of eyes focusing on her.

"You were stuck down in Hell for ages." Ron commented around a mouthful of mashed potato.

"Mm," Hermione said non-committedly. She couldn't tell her friends that she was informing Snape of just what he had done the evening before whilst drunk. Upon returning from Snape's chambers the evening before, she had told the three that she had been in the library. It was much to her amusement that she knew they wouldn't have gone looking for her.

"What did Snape want?" Harry asked.

"_Professor_ Snape," Hermione automatically corrected. "He just wanted to know if..." she desperately racked her mind for an excuse. "If he would be required to waste any time helping me catch up from the week that I missed."

"Shouldn't he have asked that last week?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Probably," Hermione said, reaching for some pork chops.

Ron gave a humpf, but everyone ignored him.

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Sitting in the dungeon classroom, Snape turned thoughts of what Miss Granger had told him over in his head again and again. He didn't doubt Miss Granger had told him the truth about the previous evening, but he didn't like some of the things that he heard. He had told her things that he never told anyone. Like he mentioned that he hated his family. What the hell had he been thinking? _Oh, that's right, I wasn't thinking_, his mind reminded him irritably.

With a groan, he hung his head. At least she hadn't reacted terribly towards him, and for that he was thankful. The last thing he needed to do was explain to Minerva why a student he had cared for now hated his guts. Not that he enjoyed using the word "cared". He had simply babysat an little brat through her illness. Yet somehow, he couldn't even bring himself to think of it like that.

So what was left?

_Oh, fuck it,_ he thought, _caring for her will just have to do_.

He just wasn't sure if he was talking about caring for her through her illness, or caring for Hermione now.

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_Thank you to all of my reviewers, you're all soooo wuvwy!_

_Oh, and I've had several people commenting on a review that was left by one particulary... kind person. I must say to this 'reviewer', thank you for the sore stomach, your review made me laugh ever so hard, thanks! Thanks for the effort! _


	27. A Frustrating Vow

_Yay, another chapter, hope everyone likes it. It's once again more of a thought based chapter, which I almost prefer for Snape – he doesn't seem the time to ramble! (unlike me, heehee!)_

_But before you all read, take some time to congratulate the wonderful **JTBJAB** on getting accepted into uni, congrats! --Throws some confetti at you--_

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**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

That Wednesday, Hermione made yet another trip down in Snape's rooms. She was greeted by a stony faced Professor who led her wordlessly into his rooms.

"I have rounds to do at curfew, Miss Grange," he informed her coldly. "Which means you will have to leave before then. It'd simply _hate_ having to take points from you."

She did not flinch as she met his cold gaze. "As Head Girl, sir, that curfew does not apply to me, as I too have rounds to complete." She retorted as calmly as she could, despite feeling shaken. Why did Professor Snape have to keep going hot and cold, in a matter of speaking? And if he was going to be so cold to her, why was he going to allow her to use his books and rooms?

As she pondered his great collection of books, her mind really did question why he had allowed her back into his rooms. Selecting a book on rarely known counter curses, she chose to settle herself on the floor near the fireplace, setting the book on a small table and pulling her parchment and quill from her back. Snape was standing beside one of the armchairs, watching her. When she was seated, he turned on his heel and strode into his office, leaving the adjoining door open so they could easily see each other.

Choosing to ignore the Professor, and keeping her focus entirely on her work, it was with great shock that Hermione looked up two hours later to find the dark man standing beside her, surveying her work through a curtain of black hair. Folding her hands in her lap, she politely waited for the harsh comments to come. Yet they never did.

"That is quite interesting work, Miss Granger," he offered in his silky tones, before telling her that she had to leave. Surprised at the almost compliment that he had given her, she quietly packed her things away before following him from his chambers.

"Thank you, sir," she said once out in the corridor. She turned and walked away, but before she turned the corner leading up to the Entrance Hall, she gave him one final look, and was shocked by the expression that she saw upon his face.

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Despite his heart not being into it as usual, Severus Snape did still enjoy walking the corridors of Hogwarts at night, scaring any students he came upon. Of late, it had been much better then attempting to sleep, or sitting in the cold loneliness of his rooms.

Tonight, for the first time in a long time, Snape regretted having to do his rounds. Having Miss Granger in his rooms, albeit reading and silent, had been a most welcome thing. The presence of another had stopped his mind from constantly reminding him of just how _alone_ he was. While she may not have paid him a single drop of attention, nor had he to her, his body and mind had been so painfully aware of her presence, sitting by the fire and reading and scratching away at her parchment. He had wished terribly that nine o'clock had not come around, that he could keep the young witch for the rest of the night.

Once or twice, he had strongly wished he had the courage to go and sit with her, read with her, give her suggestions and hear her thoughts. Yet all he could do was sit in his office, pretending to mark the sixth-year essays, accompanied by the many slimy jars that adorned his walls. He could see the young woman out the corner of his eyes; he had admired the small crease in her forehead, a testimony of her intense concentration.

Part of him had hoped that she would ask for his help; raise her hand as it had in class. Another part of him had scolding him for hoping such a thing and reminded him of just how annoying she was, just how much he hated having to answer her questions in class. Silently he pondered which was the better part of him. He could not decide.

Striding down the hallway, fighting as he had all year to keep his stride smooth, he ignored the portraits the lined the corridor around him. He kept his eyes peeled for any sort of moment, staying as silent as he could. Making a turn, he headed for the school library, knowing the amount of times perfect little Potter had foolishly run amok in there after hours. It irked Snape to no ends that the little brat had an invisibility cloak, allowing him to hide so easily. Thankfully, the little brat was never so quiet; he simply couldn't keep his mouth shut half the time.

However, it was infuriating just how often the _child_ could evade him. Oh, there were so many things he knew Potter and his _friends_ were behind, but there was hardly a way he could prove it without looking like a biased man and bringing upon him the hate of an entire castle. Not that he didn't have that already – he knew it was there, no matter how much they tried to hide it. But he preferred it that way. It was easier to pretend it wasn't there when they pretended to hide it.

It wasn't as if he welcomed any of them into his life with open arms. Or had any intention to. Except Miss Granger.

Snape nearly tripped over his own feet like a foolish child as that thought passed through his mind. He didn't have any idea where it came from, and was incredibly unnerved to find that it didn't bother him once he really thought about it.

Miss Granger certainly didn't seem like any of her other peers. Anyone else who had caught Snape drunk would have most likely taken advantage of the situation, or at the very least run off to the Headmistress. Yet she had stayed with him, in fact, she had looked after him, in a matter of speaking. Made him a potion, helped him into bed… no, he would not think beyond that point.

A movement up ahead provided a welcome distraction. Moving quickly and silently, Snape made his way up the corridor, where a nervous red head was darting away.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Mr Weasley," Snape's voice cut through the cold air in the corridors, and the boy ahead of him stopped dead and turned to face him. "for being out and about after curfew." Snape couldn't but let a cruel smile creep across his face as the boys shoulders slumped upon seeing him. "Explain yourself, Weasley," he demanded with a sneer.

Blushing, the boy opened his mouth. "I'm sorry Professor; I was just going to the Gryffindor Common Room." He said.

Snape sneered. "Weasley, it is fifteen minutes past curfew, so where are you coming from."

"I was looking for Hermione, sir." The usual arrogant swagger was coming from Weasley's mouth, making Snape's sneer become more pronounced. "After dinner she said she was going to do some study, so we thought she'd be in the library. But she wasn't back by curfew…"

"So you thought you'd play the arrogant hero and go rescue her before she lost points for the house?" Snape sneered down at the boy. "However thick you are, Weasley, did it ever occur to you that Miss Granger is Head Girl? That curfew does _not_ apply to her, and that she too has rounds to complete?" He nearly choked on his words, realising they were almost exactly what the little witch had said to him earlier.

A look dawned on the Weasley boy's face. "I thought not," Snape commented, his lip curling up. "Get back to your common room now, Weasley, before you lose your _precious_ house another lot of points."

Watching the boy scamper off down the hall, it was with shock that Snape realised that Miss Granger had not told her _best friends_ where she really was, where she was studying. Beginning to stride down to the corridors again, he couldn't help but wonder why that was. It seemed unlike the trio to keep anything from each other – why would she keep something as simple as where she was studying a secret.

With a scowl he realised exactly why she didn't want to tell the idiots – she was after all, spending time with Snape, willingly, if only to gather information. Surely that would be a most embarrassing thing to admit. Frustration for the young woman raced through his veins. An intelligent witch like Hermione – _Miss Granger!_ – should be allowed to study where she wishes, without fearing embarrassment. As drunk as he had been, he had been telling the truth when he admitted that she could go far. She shouldn't be letting something like embarrassment be stopping her at this early age. The way he had been treated when he was her age had scarred him for life; he knew all too well the results of being on the receiving ends of embarrassing situations.

Instantly Snape jerked his hand away from his left forearm when he realised he'd been unconsciously rubbing it. Yes, he knew the price…

All too often he wondered if he had been a different man if that stupid Potter and his admirers had treated him better. While, yes, he had been a dark boy, growing into a darker man, would he have done some of the awful things he'd done if James Potter hadn't been so cold and mean to him? Would he have joined the ranks of the Dark Lord if he wasn't so power hungry, wanting to badly to learn just how he could revenge on his tormentors?

Frustration turned to red hot anger, which he took out on a suit of armour nearby, sending it crashing to the floor in a fit of rage. When he was calm again, he straightened the suit and moved off before Filch found him.

Striding into his private quarters, he gave a laugh. While he may have turned so evil, so awful, it was of great irony that he was the only one left, besides Remus Lupin. James Potter, perished so many years ago, followed by Sirius Black only two years ago. Less then a year ago, Peter Pettigrew had finally been slaughtered, at his Masters side. Yet, he was standing, still standing, still living. And that was the way he wanted to keep it for now. It was sick kind of ambition to show that the boys who had filled him with so much hate, so much anger that he was better then them all; that he had done something none of them had: he had survived the war. Remus Lupin, while never holding the wand directly at Snape's face, had never put an end to it, making him just as bad as the rest of them. But Snape had to face that he was going to be teamed with Remus Lupin in life – they were the only survivors of a generation tangled with the Dark Lord.

But what did it all matter? Now it was all over, and Severus Snape was the man he was today. What mattered is that he could perhaps help one young witch become everything she possibly could – he would not allow the embarrassment of telling her friends that she was working with the "greasy git" stop. Perhaps there wasn't a war on their doorstep at the moment, but the world was still a nasty place.

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Snape was seated at desk on Friday when Hermione Granger gave his office door a small knock. He was in the middle of correcting the test he had given the Seventh-Years earlier that day. He had already passed hers, and she had, as usual, answered everything correctly.

Opening the office door, it was with a mixture of surprise and pleasure that he found her standing here, clutching a pile of parchment and a quill. He had not seen her since Wednesday, when he had made the silent vow to help her in any way he could. Greeting her and leading her into his sitting room, she noticed how she kept her head down, her brown hair obscuring her face. He almost reached over to shift it out of the way, but instead offered her once again access to all of his books. He watched as pleasure slipped over her face, and he smiled to himself before returning to his correction.

An hour later, there was a knock at his office door again. Looking at the time, he was somewhat surprised – it was rare for anyone to come to his office door at this time, even if it were only eight o'clock in the evening. Making sure once again there was no chance anyone could see into his private quarters from the office door, he wrenched it open.

A second year Slytherin stood upon the threshold. Snape recognised her as Alyssa Boyd, a student had dealt with once or twice.

"Professor, there's something going wrong in the common room, there's a fight." The young Slytherin informed him.

Snape snarled. He did not wish to be interrupted from his work to deal with petty students who were too stupid to deal with anything themselves. At the beginning of the year, he had well and truly given up on his house. But now that Miss Boyd stood in front of him, he realised he had little choice but to leave.

But Miss Granger…

Telling Miss Boyd to wait a moment, he threw the door of this office closed and strode into his sitting room, his black robes swirling around him. Apparently Miss Granger hadn't noticed that someone was there, she was quite clearly absorbed in her work.

"Miss Granger!" He barked. Her head shot up to look at her. "As much as this pains me, I have to go the Slytherin common room." He snarled, running hand down his front to smooth his robes. "I should not be gone any longer then a moment or two, therefore I see it as unfitting to remove you from you work. You may stay here, but I must warn you, _do not move_ from where you are, or I shall know about it." Upon seeing her shocked nodding, he spun on his heel and stormed from the room.

Accompanying Miss Boyd back to the Slytherin common room, he found pandemonium there. Several students were standing at either end of the room, shouting at each other, wands raised. Not quite able to believe what he was seeing, he quickly forgot about the witch in his rooms and began to shout, ordering for calm to be returned.

Much to his disgust, it took well over an hour and a half for things to be resorted, for all the victims of a physical damage to be healed, for points to be deducted (something he rarely did to Slytherins), and for detentions to be handed out (something even rarer). His frustration was at it's height as he stormed back along the corridors and into his private quarters.

Seeing Miss Granger's head resting on the table, he had forgotten that he had left her there so long ago, with the order of not to move. Why had she taken it to that extent? "Silly witch," he murmured, making his way over to her sleeping form. Her hand rested on the parchment beneath her head, and she was snoring quietly.

Gently he shook her shoulder, dislodging some hair, causing it to fall over her face. This time, he could not resist temptation but to gently tuck them back behind her ear. She did not rouse during this, or when he gave her a gentle shake again. He knelt beside her, his dark robes pooling around him. "Miss Granger," he muttered, shaking her shoulder again. She murmured something indistinctive and one hand rose to wave aimlessly.

Something flicked inside Snape as he realised that he could not wake her, nor did he want to. Yet he couldn't let her rest in such an awkward position, her legs tucked up under her, her body cramped. Making a rash decision, he moved closer to her.

She still did not wake as he gently gathered her into his arms and lifted her into the air, tucking her against his chest. In fact, she rubbed her head on his shoulder. Feeling uncomfortable, Snape considered laying her down on the couch, but thought better of it. With yet another rash decision, he very carefully carried her into his bedroom, using magic to pull the covers back of his bed and laid her down. As he laid her down, she stretched like a cat, and slid her hands under the pillow, nuzzling her head into it. Before he could stop himself, his fingers reached out and brushed some strands of hair away from her face again.

Use magic to remove her shoes, he tucked the covers of the bed up. Once more, his hand touched her smooth, soft face before he left the room to continue with his marking.

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_Wee! Something different! Hope you like the softie side that's coming out in Snape and that you understand just why I'm making him be this way :-)_

_Thanks for all your reviews! Keep them coming, pwease!_


	28. The Haunting Discovery

_Wee, another chapter! This one's first part is really quite crummy I think, very OOC for his-Snapeiness, but still, read on and enjoy!_

_All my reviewers, I love you all! I'm glad you liked the last chapter, was so, so thrilled, posting can be so nerve racking!_

_Oh, and a big hello Alyson ;-)_

_I've had it pointed out to me just how many word mix-ups I make, I'm just a muddled up person:-D_

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**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

Hermione woke to darkness surrounding her and pressing into her. With a cry, she sat up from the soft bed where she lay. _Where am I?_She wondered desperately. _This is not my bed!_ Fumbling around the pitch black that surrounded her, her hand hit a dressing table, and she managed to send something flying. She assumed they were books by the thud that hit the floor. As they made a thud, it really convinced her that she was not in her rooms; the thick carpet usually absorbed the sounds of her sending books flying in the night.

Fumbling around, she managed to find what she believed to be her wand. A whispered "_Lumos_" lit up the space around her. She was surprised to find herself tangled in satin sheets, covered by a satin doona, which had gold stars and moons emblazoned into it. With a gulp, she realised she recognised where she was. She'd been in Professor Snape's bed for an entire week; she was bound to recognise it.

Glancing around the bare stone wall, she saw that he was no where to be seen, but the door to the sitting room was open. It was also dark in there, Hermione could see past the door into the room. When a shadow loomed out of the darkness, she emitted another cry of shock.

Dressed entirely in black as usual, Professor Snape stepped into the light provided by her wand, causing her heart to begin beating furiously. "Miss Granger?" He inquired, looking down at her.

"Why am I here?" She demanded bluntly.

She watched as a small scowl passed over his face. "You fell asleep on my floor while I was off dealing with the Slytherins." His eyes met hers. "I did not realise you would take my instructions quite so literal and not even leave." His tone portrayed the amusement she knew he would be trying so hard to hide.

It came rushing back to her, that she had been sitting on his floor reading, writing, when she'd realised the late hour. "I was going to go back to my dormitory, I was." She lowered her head. "I'm sorry Professor; I didn't mean to fall asleep."

His back visibly stiffened at her apology. "I should have tried harder to wake you." He muttered. "I just thought it would be easier to allow you to rest, rather then deal with a grumpy witch." His lips quirked into what might have been a smile.

"Oh. Thank you." She whispered. Not daring to say anything else, she used her wand to light the torches on his walls, before muttering "_Nox_". He watched her the whole time, before she asked, "Did I wake you?"

Again he almost seemed to smile at her. "No, Miss Granger, you did not. I find it… difficult to sleep on the couch out there, unless I've had something to soften my senses – something I feel I may just give up for awhile." Hermione realised this was his uncomfortable pass at humour – he was clearly distressed by the situation. But all she could say was:

"Oh. I'm sorry for taking your bed, again."

His hand waved at her. "That is nothing new, Miss Granger, and I do believe I am the one who put you to bed." His eyebrow arched. Hermione felt her cheeks turn red at his statement, thinking of the Professor carrying her into his bed. Did he carry her? Or did he simply levitate her? Mentally, she gave herself a shake, trying hard to rid herself of the images in her mind.

"I should be returning to my dorm," she whispered, looking down at the satin bed cover.

He cleared his throat, and she looked up at him. "It's… late." He said, his voice slow and deliberate. "Perhaps it would be best if you were not to be… wandering about the castle at this hour." She opened her mouth to say something. "I know you are Head Girl, Miss Granger, however, if Filch or another teacher caught you wandering about with your book bag, surely it would raise some concern. Perhaps it would be best for you to spend the rest of the evening here."

Hermione could see the sense in his words, but could hardly believe the he was insisting that she spend the night in his rooms. It dawned her then, all the things he had said to her while he was intoxicated, the way he had invited her to use his rooms to study of an evening… _he was lonely_. At once Hermione felt pride swell through her, glad that he had invited her to spend the time with him, to help relieve him of his loneliness.

"Thank you, sir, that would be welcome." She smiled shyly at him. "However… if you find it hard to sleep on the couch, then allow me. You may have noticed that I don't have trouble sleeping in odd spots." She remembered all the little nooks and crannies she had fallen asleep in, especially during her third year, when she had pushed herself beyond exhaustion.

However, Snape would have none of that. "That will not be happening, Miss Granger. As technically you are a guest, it would be hardly fair if I were to have you sleep on a couch." His hand waved again.

"Sir, I must insist." She said, pressing the issue. His head turned away, clearly unsettled by her persistence. Had he seriously expected her to give in quite so easily? "I'll just have to go back to my room, won't I?" she asked. "I won't be able to sleep if I know you're not comfortable." The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"It didn't seem to matter before," he muttered, looking at everything in the room except for his bed. She was pleased; she hadn't seen him look so out of place since she'd regained her full health. However, she herself was at a loss as to why he wouldn't just let her sleep on the couch – it wasn't as if he was ever bothered with the comfort level of students before, why should he start now? She suspected it was Slytherin pride that was behind his unwillingness to give in.

Too bad her Gryffindor bravery appeared to run just as strong. There really was only one solution. "We'll both just have to sleep in the armchairs then."

He started at her words, his black eyes finally meeting hers with a look of shock. "W-what?" He sputtered.

"Well, since we both insist on being uncomfortable for the other's comfort, how about we just even it out and both be uncomfortable?" she said, both of her eyebrows rising. "It's the perfect solution… unless you would be willing to share the bed, therefore ensuring comfort."

His eyes fixed hers with a piercing gaze, before he strode from the room. Hermione watched him leave, wondering at herself and what she had said. In all honesty, she did not want to leave the warmth of the bed in exchange for the cold, leather armchairs, but… could she share a bed with him?

Before she could do anything though, Snape returned to the room, carrying a dark blue blanket. He shook it out and laid it over the other side of the bed from where she lay. "I will not be having you be unnecessarily uncomfortable, Miss Granger." He said quite curtly. Hermione stared at him in pure shock as he pulled the blanket back and settled onto the bed, lying upon the doona. The tone was right, the words were not. She had expected the armchairs, that he would take joy out of seeing her uncomfortable… _but then, why did he put you in his bed in the first place _a little voice in her head asked.

"Well, it's not as if this is anything new," she retorted, turning to face the wall and using her wand to extinguish the lamps. A chuckle greeted her words. "Though I'm not entirely sure about the comfortable part."

She felt him sit up straight as soon as the words fell from her lips. "Are you uncomfortable?" He asked, an edge of his voice. "Would you like me to leave?"

"No, no, Professor, lie down! I was only joking." She rolled her eyes at him. "I just meant that…" she bit her lip. "Well, I don't know. I suppose unexpected is more the word to be used." She mused. The situation seemed incredibly unreal to her, and she kept expecting to wake up and find it all as some weird dream. This couldn't be the Professor Snape she knew.

"This was foolish of me," he muttered.

"No, this was… kind of you."

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Many, many floors above them, perched high in the Gryffindor tower, Harry Potter was unsettled. For the third time in a week, one of his best friends was missing. Oh, he knew that Hermione was no stranger to wandering off, but she usually returned in an hour or so, at least before curfew, usually carrying some thick book, eyes shining about the research she'd just completed. And yet now… she'd been missing since just after dinner, and by one in the morning, still hadn't returned. He knew that she couldn't possibly have been in the library – Madam Pince did have limits after all! Yet she wasn't in the Gryffindor Tower, a note on her door had informed the house that she was out, but the note had not been removed.

Despite the war being over, Harry could not help but feel over protective of his friends, he had seen so many perish in the war. He was almost mad at Hermione for wandering off and not returning, after their little chat they'd had not long back about the after effects of war. Did she just not realise that her friends would be going out of their skin with worry?

It was at three in the morning that Harry gave in, that he decided to do what he never wanted to do – use the Marauder's Map to find Hermione, to spy on her. He used his worry as a justification. Besides, she'd never have to know…

Making sure the curtains were drawn tightly around his bed, Harry sat up and lit his wand with "_Lumos_". He pulled the Marauder's Map from under his pillow (something he had begun doing with the war – in case he ever urgently needed to know where anyone was), and studied it closely.

His first port of call was the library, but as he suspected, it was empty. He sucked in a breath – he had hoped so hard that Hermione would be there, that he would see her figure tucked up in a corner some where, and he'd be able to just pull the invisibility cloak over his head and go wake her. But if she wasn't there, then where in Hogwarts could she be? He skimmed over the astronomy tower, but only Peeves was there. The owlery, no such luck either. He checked each other the corridors, the classroom, but to no avail. Quickly he double checked her own room to make sure she hadn't returned, but it stood without a dot labelled with her name.

Without much hope, he checked the teacher's quarters – perhaps she had gone to talk to McGonagall, or even Flitwick about a project and had fallen asleep. His frustrations grew and grew as her little ink dot was no where to be found, and he was soon running out of places.

A feeling of dread filled Harry as he remembered last time he had found Hermione one the map, of where she had been. No, she couldn't possibly be there, couldn't be spending time down there. Well, spending the night down there it would seem. Slowly, carefully, he directed the light and his eyes towards the private chambers of "Professor Severus Snape".

Oh, how Harry wished his eyes were deceiving him, and that the map was lying. But he knew the map never lied, it showed everyone at anytime, anywhere in Hogwarts and never lied – it had even picked up Peter Pettigrew in his third year. But now… no, he would not believe that Hermione and Snape were in the same part of the school let alone _the same room_ at this time of night.

Icy shock ran through Harry's veins as he watched the unmoving dots, so close, so very close in Snape's chambers, in Snape's bedroom. What on earth was Hermione playing at? Thoughts, images, idea swirled though Harry's head, every one of them he tried to dismiss. With a furious whisper of "_mischief managed_", he folding the map, extinguished his wand and threw himself onto the bed, face down, trying hard to blank his mind from what he'd seen on the map.

It couldn't be possible, he told himself. There was no way that Hermione would be sleeping with a greasy bat like Professor Snape.

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Once again, Hermione woke, startled. Thankfully, the torches were already lit, and she could see the room around her. Something rippled through her as she realised she had just spent the night in Professor Snape's rooms, something she chose not to examine.

The space beside her was empty, there was nothing there to say that a man had slept there, and for that Hermione was glad – perhaps she could convince herself that their midnight conversation was nothing but a dream, that he had in fact spent the night out on the uncomfortable couch. No, she didn't wish that.

Stepping out of the bed, fear ran through her body before the icy cold dungeon floor could take effect on her warm feet. She remembered last time she had stepped out of his bed and approached him; he had become a nasty creature in direct contrast to the man she had spent the week under the care of. Would that happen again today?

Thanking whoever was listening for the fact that it was Saturday and she needn't have bothered with making it to classes on time, she stood, stretching beside the bed. She realised she was still wearing the muggle clothing she had donned last night before descending to the dungeon, but her shoes were missing. She was thankful for this – she didn't know what she could have done if she'd woken up wearing something different to what she last remembered.

Shuffling out into the sitting room, she found it empty, and the door to his office closed, but the door that lead to his private potions lad quite open. Daringly, she stepped out in the little corridor. Once again, the door to her right was firmly shut, the door to her left open. She could see him bending over a cauldron through the doorway. He was stirring, and she knew better then to interrupt the stirring process if it was a potion that needed to be stirred a specific number of times.

Moving away from the lab, she returned to his bedroom, and quickly put on her shoes, and cast a cleaning spell on the bed, not knowing what else to do. This certainly felt awkward. _Stop it_, she growled at herself. There was nothing to feel awkward about. Professor Snape was simply being kind last night. Biting her lip, she walked back to the private lab, where he was standing before the cauldron, just watching it.

"Sleep well, Miss Granger?" he asked, not taking his eyes of the cauldron and catching her by surprise.

"Yes, sir," she responded. "I must thank you, once again."

A hand waved at her. "Do not mention it Miss Granger. And I mean that literally." His black eyes rose to meet hers, and she understood the warning. "You'd best return to your room now, Miss Granger." He paused. "Thank you for your company yesterday evening. Perhaps you will return to complete your work."

She allowed herself to smile at him. "Undoubtedly, I will. You've quite an impressive book collection." She found herself looking at the thick black books resting upon a shelf. Quickly, she glanced away, hoping that he hadn't noticed her looking. "Thank you, again. Have a good weekend, Professor." She turned and left quietly as he returned to his potion.

Knowing it was early yet, not quite time for breakfast, she felt confident that not too many students would be up, lest her friends, who had a bad habit of sleeping right up until they were in danger of missing breakfast. She easily slipped through the portrait hole and moved into the common room. A few students were shuffling down the stairs, yawning. They didn't pay any attention to her, and for this she was glad. She could easily say that she was out taking a morning walk.

Moving towards her private room, she was surprised to see a large something at her bedroom door. On closer inspection, she found Harry propped up against the door, his head resting again his chest, his mouth half open, his glasses sliding down his nose, his hands clutching the Marauder's Map. Thankfully it was blank

Hermione's mouth fell open as she understood the scene before her. Harry had been looking for her on the map, she'd been gone all night… he had surely seen where she was. Leaning forward, she gave him a poke to wake him. He gave a startled cry before shaking his head. Helping him up, she noticed he seemed to wonder what he was doing for a second, but then a look of anger crossed his face as she led him into her room, stepping over the pile of notes on the floor.

She turned to face him, hoping to speak before he got a chance. But before she could say anything, words burst forth angrily from his mouth.

"Hermione, how could you!"

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_What's Hermione going to tell Harry? Hope you like it, it will be appearing in the next chapter (duh Silver!)._

_Thank you everyone for the constant support, you're all truly wonderful!_

_I wish I could say more, so I'll just leave it like that._


	29. Accusations

_First of all, I'd like to apologise for Harry's reaction… I've had a stressful day and am quite angry about a few things, and I unfortunately used Harry to take my anger out. But it seemed the right time. Ron would have just been a total moron about it, and let's face it, it's not the first time we've seen Harry go mental!_

_This chapter is short, and a mess, blame it on a foul mood. Don't flame me! Probably not much of a plot advancement, lol. Sorry! Next chapter will be better, I promise!_

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**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

"Harry…" Hermione began helplessly.

Her friend was pacing her room, his hands in his black hair, his eyes glaring daggers at her. "How could you, Hermione?" He repeated. "You disappear after dinner last night, and don't return. You don't tell anyone where you are, you can't say you didn't expect anyone to worry!" He shouted.

"Harry, listen to me, I can explain." She didn't bother hoping that Harry had not seen where she had spent the night on the Marauder's Map. In another situation she might have been angry at him for spying on her, but right now, she was simply wanting to explain what had happened. But she knew she wouldn't get a word in around Harry, she'd learnt that from his rants in their fifth year. So she waited for him to finish bellowing, quietly casting a silencing charm around the room so that no nosey people would hear his screeching.

"You stayed with SNAPE last night!" He yelled, throwing his hands up. "I was so fucking worried about you, you just left, with no explanation, we couldn't find you anywhere! I don't care if the war is over, when a friend goes missing, I'm still allowed to worry, and bloody Hell Hermione, you made me worry!" He threw his hands up in the air, before throwing himself into a chair by her fireplace. "I was worried, I couldn't help it, I looked for you on the map, and god knows if you were even still in the school. And where the fuck where you?"

"Professor Snape's room." She stated quietly, looking up at him, feeling determined. "I was with Professor Snape."

"How could you, Hermione?" Harry asked again, his voice low.

"Oh, be quiet Harry, and stop jumping to conclusions, it really is a very bad habit of yours." She said. "It's perfectly innocent, you know."

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "You and Professor Snape in _his bedroom_ at three in the morning? How can that possibly be _perfectly innocent_?"

Quickly, Hermione explained about the studying sessions, the girl coming to his door, his prolonged absence. "I don't know how long he'd been gone… but I fell asleep, there on his floor."

Harry just started at her, gaping.

"Oh, Harry, quit it, really." She said, exasperated. "It's not as if I were naked or anything. I woke up a few hours later, and I was in his bed – it's not like I hadn't been there before." She saw the wary look in his eyes. "No, Harry, he was not in the bed with me, he was in the sitting room."

Something flicked in Harry's eyes. "That would be sense… except when I look at the map," he blushed as he said this now, "you were both in the same room."

"Well, obviously he had to explain to me at some point what I was doing in his rooms." She retorted. "I woke up and had a bit of a fright..." Hermione dared. She didn't really want Harry to know that she had spent the rest of the evening sharing the bed with the man. She hoped that once Harry had seen where she was, he had not looked again. With him holding the Marauder's Map in his hand, she held little hope though.

Much to her surprise, Harry's eyes widened. "Are you saying… you're not sleeping with Snape?"

"Professor Snape," she automatically corrected again. "And no, Harry, I'm not sleeping with him." _Well_, she thought, _that's not entirely a lie – it was only a one off thing… right? And there wasn't anything else involved…_

"Hermione…" his voice is quiet and desperate, "why are you studying with him?"

She closed her eyes and let her head fall back, recalling the conversation they'd had after she'd recovered from being ill. She was quick to remind him of this. "Harry, I told you, when I was sick… he was different."

"Didn't mean you'd end up spending the night studying in his rooms." Harry muttered darkly. "You could be studying with Flitwick or someone."

Keeping her eyes closed, she counted to ten slowly before opening them. "You're right, I could. But I've chosen to study with Professor Snape, and doing so has been most helpful to my research." She still snapped out, pulling her parchment from my bag. Along with them, came a book. _Shit_, she thought. It was one of Professor Snape's books.

Before Harry could say anything else, someone knocked on Hermione's bedroom door. Thankfully, silencing charms only work one way, and Hermione quickly lifted it from the room.

"Hermione?" Ron's voice rang out. "Are you back yet?"

Crossing the room, she yanked the door open to see the redhead standing there in his too-small pyjamas. He greeted her with a hug. "Where on earth have you been Hermione?" He asked. "Talk about making us bloody worry."

"I fell asleep while studying." She said carefully, turning to give Harry a sharp look.

Harry held the map up for him to see. "Didn't think of that one, mate," Ron said, pulling a chocolate frog from his pocket.

"Honestly, Ronald, are you ever not eating? It's time for breakfast, anyway!" Before either of them could say anything, she flung them out of her room so she could get changed. Ron obviously didn't notice that she was already dressed, for he didn't say anything. For this, Hermione was thankful.

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Snape sat at the Head Table in the Great Hall, watching as students trickled in as the sun continued its ascent into the sky. He had finished his potion only moments after Miss Granger had left his chambers, leaving him wishing she had slept for those extra moments so he could have said a proper goodbye to her. It was when this thought crossed his mind that he had fled his chambers.

He didn't want to admit to himself that he had enjoyed coming back to his chambers the previous night to find the girl sleeping in his room, didn't want to admit he enjoyed having someone there. He couldn't possibly admit that he enjoyed having someone just wander into his lab this morning to talk to him. It wasn't possible that he did.

It was just nice to have someone, _anyone_ there at the moment.

His watched as Miss Granger entered the Great Hall, accompanied by her usual side kicks. He noted that it was with great care that Miss Granger did not glance up to the Head Table as Potter did, he also noted the dirty look the foolish boy sent him.

Unbidden, Snape's fingernails dug into the wood of the Head Table as he met the glare, and easily returned it. Realisation flooded his body. He remembered that map Potter had, the map that he had seen on Remus Lupin's desk all those years ago. The map that had depicted every nook and cranny of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Oh, how he was so angry at himself later for not picking that map up, instead of just rushing out the door to save those three fools. Even if one of those fools was turning out to be good company.

But remembering the map, Snape realised that Harry would have probably been looking at it at some point during the night, wondering where his friend was, hoping to find her. And where would he have found her?

_In bed with the Greasy Bat Potions Master_. His fingernails dug into the tabletop a little deeper, knowing exactly what Potter would have assumed. He only hoped Hermione – _Miss Granger!_ – would be able to successfully convince him of the innocence of the situation.

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Hermione was so glad that Harry had the decency not to bring up what he had seen on the map in front of Ron – if Harry had been angry about where Hermione was spending her evenings, surely Ron would be completely unstoppable. Thinking this, she sighed. She didn't enjoy keeping secrets from her friends.

Whenever Ron wasn't listening, however, Harry turned and badgered her with questions about her research, what books of Snape's were helpful. Finally, she turned around from her homework and shrieked shrilly, "Just let it go Harry! It's none of your business!". Picking up her books and tucking them under her arm, she stormed from the common room. On her way out, she heard Ron mutter "asked her to help you with your transfiguration homework again, didn't ya mate?"

Storming through the school, she watched as students scattered, trying to get out of the way of the furious Head Girl. Taking twists and turns, she blindly walked, seething. How dare Harry question everything so much, why couldn't he just take her word for it?

_Because you're lying, that's why_, a little voice told her.

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_Okay, super odd ending, but I don't know, it just felt kind of right. I'm still in a pretty foul mood, so lol, who knows. If I end up changing it, don't kill me. I'm off to bed tonight, sorry for this mess of a chapter!_

_Goodnight!_


	30. Confessions

_Despite last chapter being a bit short and out of focus, I've decided to leave it how it is, thanks to all your wonderful reviews._

_And a big **ROAR** to Rhiannon!_

_Also, **Velvet Storm**, thanks for your concern. Things have just been a little screwy around me at the moment, but I'm sure they'll even out in time :-)_

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**Chapter Thirty**

Eight o'clock Saturday evening found Professor Snape making his weekly rounds of the school grounds, striding across the vast lawns, keeping his eyes peeled for any students who dared to lurk out doors. While the official curfew may not have been until nine o'clock inside the school, no students were to be out on the grounds after the sun set. And seemed that today, students seemed to be taking this rule seriously, for once, for he had not spotted any students out and about. And after so many years at the school, he knew where to look for them.

As he roamed the grounds, his mind wandered off the Gryffindor he had not seen since breakfast that morning. Miss Granger had not attended lunch or dinner, and something about the guilty look on Potter's face told the older man it had something to do with him. Snape could only wonder at what the foolish boy had done this time. Truly, he wasn't sure he wanted to know, he was tired of the games that boy played.

Scowling into the darkness, he made his way to the Quidditch pitch – more then once he had found hormone driven teenagers hiding within the stands. Oh, how please he'd been that night he'd found Mr Weasley groping that Ravenclaw within the shadows – what a perfect excuse for fifty points off and three detentions. However, according to Minerva, the boy could not be expelled just yet; it was his first offence in this cause. How disappointed Snape had been.

However, he was apparently going to have no such luck picking the annoying red head up and tossing him out of the school gates tonight, not a shadow stirred within the pitch or its stands as Snape made his rounds. With a sigh which was a cross between annoyance and relief, he left the pitch, just in time to see a figure creep out of the shadows. He had just found where Hermione Granger had been hiding all day.

"You do realise, don't you, Miss Granger, that you have your own room within the confines of the castle?" he asked, casting his voice softly into the darkness. The creeping figure of the student stood perfectly still.

"I did not see you there, Professor." She murmured, keeping her head to the ground.

Snape smirked at her. "Clearly not," he said, not moving. "So why are you down here in the dark? It is a pity you are Head Girl."

The silence filled them at his horrid remark, and he was almost ashamed of himself for letting it slip. If the girl was out here, once again, it clearly meant that was upset about something. What if it were something to do with him, was it his fault? He tried, unsuccessfully to tell himself that he did not care if it were him causing her discomfort. Finally, as the silence became too much to bare, he asked here again, "Why are you out here?"

She still did not raise her head from the ground. _Good_, Snape thought, _I do not wish to see her tears_. "I just had to get away, again, sir, like last time." She suddenly moved her head to look at him. "Why might you be here, Professor?"

"It is none of your business what I do, Miss Granger," he sneered at her, before regretting it as he watched her head drop. He sighed. "That was silly of me. But a stupid question of yours. I am quite clearly doing rounds." He gestured to the darkness around them. "What are you escaping from?"

Much to his surprise, her fists clutched up, and she went stiff. "From them," She whispered. "From all of them."

Before he could register what he was doing, he guided the seething Gryffindor back into the Quidditch stands, and led her up to where he had found her not so long ago, while he flew high above the ground. He lit his wand so they could see, and in the faint light, saw the witch's smile quirk into a shallow smile as he recognised his path.

"You were not at lunch, or dinner." He commented as she sat with her back against one of the support beams.

"I like to think I was hardly missed." Was her reply, making Snape very curious as to what had happened. "Unless of course Harry needed someone to fire his bothersome questions at." The bitterness in this statement made Snape almost take a step back. He watched as she cast a look up at him, her eyes filled with… well, he couldn't describe it.

"I never thought I'd hear the day someone other then myself referred to Potter as 'bothersome', I must say I am surprised to hear it come from a mouth such as yours." He offered her. Her hand waved through the air.

"You know, I thought of all people, Harry would understand." She stood, beginning to pace the small platform. "He and I talked, and he said he understood, that it was Ron who wouldn't understand, Ron would never believe. Oh, of course, Ron doesn't know, he'd scream bloody murder. But Harry…"

Snape put a hand to his forehead. "Miss Granger, I must ask that you made some kind of sense quickly, before I cast a silencing charm on you." He was shocked to say the least when the young woman cast a glare his way.

"Harry saw on his stupid map that I had spent the night in your chambers. I told him when he first got that map that it was bad, that he should hand it in. It's only been of one great use since, more bothersome then anything, yet he still keeps it, using it _spy_." Ice flooded Snape has he found his idea had been true – Pathetic Potter had looked on his map to find the girl. "And even though I told him, yes, I told him, what you were like when I was ill, now, he doesn't care."

Snape felt both of his eyebrows shoot up at her words – she told Potter _what he was like when she was ill_. What was he like? He resisted asking her, though he was sorely tempted to. Instead, he asked her, "what does Potter not understand, Miss Granger?"

Her eyes swept to him, and he saw the disbelief in them, and he recognised that look. She'd said too much. "N-nothing, Professor." She stuttered.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger," he informed her quietly. "Answer the question, you are more then willing to answer every other question put to you know-it-all face." Somehow, this time, he couldn't quite manage the sneer that should have accompanied those last five words, and groaned inwardly when he realised that she'd noticed.

"Harry can't understand that I would actually enjoy spending time with you."

Not for the first time tonight, Snape was nearly thrown off his feet as though he was hit by a very strong "_Expelliarmus_". Yet he stood his ground, staring at the witch. She actually enjoyed spending time with him? Where had the world ended? Gathering his wit, he asked her, "What did that foolish idiot say to you?"

She waved a hand dismissively. "Just said he couldn't understand why I'd chose to spend my evenings studying in your quarters." She snorted. "Not that I have any choice on the matter if I want to continue using your books, sir."

"Miss Granger… Hermione… if you wish to use my books outside my quarters to continue your research and keep at peace with your friends… then I allow you." He muttered, thinking of the silent vow he had made to himself, to help her from the path of Darkness by keeping her from any embarrassment.

Her eyes widened with shock and he watched her head twist around quickly to look at him when he spoke those words. "Professor?" She asked. He allowed his eyes to meet her brown ones, lit only by the faint light from the wand he was holding, the darkness closing in on them from every other side in the cool spring night. "I do not wish to remove your books from your rooms. I… I enjoy studying there." Her lips curved up into a smile. "It's better than the common room, with no students running around screaming, and it's better than the library, since Madam Pince's shoes are still squeaking, even after seven years." She offered him a bitter smile.

"Well, that certainly is interesting," he muttered, half to himself. "Very well, you may continue to study of an evening in my chambers, if you are sure." He gave her a slight bow.

Silence fell over them again as Miss Granger sat down, giving him a clear indicator that she was not ready to leave yet. "It's also that I'd hoped Harry would be… well… more welcome to you." She shook her head. "We know, now, we all know, it's hard not to, we know what happened." Her voice fell to a quiet whisper. "Why would you have been put through that if you were not who… _he_ thought you were?"

Snape stood behind her. It did not take the Gryffindor brains to figure out what she was talking about, and frankly, he was quite shocked about her bringing up the subject. Why would the Dark Lord have kept him quite literally under his spell if he was not what Albus Dumbledore had always seen him as – someone to be trusted. He stiffened up, thinking of this. It was hardly something to be discussing with a student, and every part of his body told him to turn around and walk away, leave the witch the darkness, in more ways then one. But somehow, no matter how hard he tried, he could not bring himself to leave her here.

"Potter will never be welcomed by me, and I would never expect him to be welcoming to me." He snorted. "You expect everything to just fall into place after seven years of hatred, Miss Granger?"

"Oh, I don't know, sir," she hung her head, her legs dangling over the edge of the small platform, her back to her. "It just doesn't seem fair."

"Nothing is fair, Miss Granger." He even cringed at the soft tones he had let slip through in those words.

"No… nothing _is_ fair…" she agreed quietly in a defeated tone.

"Silly witch." He chided her gently, moving to sit beside her before he could stop himself. "You fight against the Darkest wizard of all time, then expect that everyone who is left behind to treat each other wonderfully? Oh, no, Miss Granger, the world is not so… _kind_." He fell silent for a moment, thinking of what he could possibly say. "I won't deny it, I have an immense disliking for your war hero Potter. He is his father's son, everyone says it, you know they do. And I for one, experiencing Potter Senior in my younger days, am inclined to agree, even if it is in a different light to that which they see him."

"He's not a war hero…" Hermione whispered, and he noticed a tear spill down her cheek. "He doesn't want to be, he's not. Fawkes is the hero, he says."

Snape shook his head. Potter – be modest? "Well, he is more of a war hero then I, as much as it pains me to say." A slight movement told him the Gryffindor had just cast a look in his direction. She seemed at loss for words. "I do not pretend to dislike this fact, either, Miss Granger." He smirked.

"It wasn't your fault, you weren't to know. You were sent there." She whispered.

Unbidden, the images of Snape's last full memory before awakening not even a year before. Images of Albus Dumbledore telling him what to do, where to go, what to say. How miserably it had all failed.

Pushing those images out of his mind, he told her gruffly, "I do not remember the war, nor do I wish to. I know what I did – what _he_ made me do, and whom he made me to do it." He said it in a way that Hermione was clear that he was no longer talking about Albus Dumbledore. "I know it, Miss Granger, yes, but I refuse to remember it." He hoped his blunt tone would tell her that the conversation was over.

Silence commenced again for a while before Miss Granger spoke again. "Professor, may I please ask you a question?"

He turned to look at her. "I would say no, but I don't believe that word has ever stopped you before." He was granted with the briefest of smiles.

"Why did you want to teacher Defence Against the Dark Arts so badly?"

He chose to ponder the question for awhile, though he truly pondered why she would be asking such a question. Finally, touching his lips with one finger, he spoke. "I was a Death Eater, Miss Granger, as you well know." He kept his voice level, though it threatened to crack. "I knew the power that the Dark Lord possessed, I was beginning to understand the ways in which he worked at the time he fell. You know, do you not, that I began teaching here at Hogwarts a year after his downfall?" He did not wait for a nod. "While I've always…. For lack of better word, loved, Potions, I desired to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts at this school because who better to teach students how to defend themselves then someone who once had to, and most likely, would again?" He allowed himself a smile at her. "I taught myself so many ways to fight the Dark side Miss Granger, I wanted to pass that one. Yet year after year, Dumbledore passed the job onto fool after fool."

"You taught it last year." Miss Granger whispered. "Why did you not return to it this year? I heard Professor Slughorn was willing to stay on as Potions Master."

Snape shook his head. "I wanted to continue as I had. Besides, as you may have gathered during your first year, Potions is my calling. I just wanted to help, Miss Granger." He was startled with himself making this frank admission to her, but she took it in her stride. As another silence fell over them, he found he had a question to ask her. "However, in my absence, I reviewed your class's work… and I must ask, how did Potter manage to keep his work at such a level? I've always thought Slughorn was an easy prick, did he allow you to help him every lesson?"

He watched with great interest as she stiffened again. "No… he had help, but not from me. I didn't talk to him for quite some time in Potions last year…"

"Then whom did he receive help from?"

Curiously, she took a great breath and let it out before turning to meet his eyes in the pale wand light. "From the Half-Blood Prince."

Before he could help himself, Snape blanched. _He_ was the Half-Blood Prince, a nick name he had fashioned for himself after his mother and his breeding. "H-how?" He stuttered.

Miss Granger hesitated. "In the Potions class room, Slughorn found an old text book and gave it to Harry to use because he didn't have his own… It belonged to the "Half-Blood Prince – it was yours."

Snape did not even bother to question how she knew it was his, fury ran like fire through his flames until it was all consuming. His breath came quickly and again his nails dug into the wood beneath him. "Potter. Has. Something. Of. MINE!" He muttered. "That was my book!" The guilty look in her eyes made him stop before he strode up to the school and forcible extracted the book from Harry's hand, whether he had to kill the boy in the meantime. He did not want that _boy_ touching his things.

"Well, no, sir, Harry doesn't have your book," she whispered, her eyes wide with fright. "He got rid of it last year."

"Then where is it, I want it returned to me immediately!" He growled. "Have you any idea just what is in that book? Tell me, where is it?"

She ducked her head, a curtain of hair falling across her face. "I have it."

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_I hope that all made sense!_

_I had to do that. I don't know why. It just came to me while I was at work tonight… was scribbling ideas all over the back of dockets and eft slips all night, lol. Hope you like it. _

_Wonder what he'll do now!_

_Hope you liked this chapter. You'll be doing some wondering for a few nights, probably, because as usual I probably won't have a chance to post tomorrow, and I'll be out of town at the Bands Festival Saturday night. I can't wait!_

_Have a good weekend everyone, and REVIEW! LOL I love reviews, you are all so wonderful (I'm not in a talkative mood tonight, I swear!)_


	31. Free To Be

_Hello! I know I said I wouldn't post today, but I have to. Too angry, too sleepless, to… everything, lol. Hope you like it :-) thank you for all your reviews, I just love getting them! I want to reply, I really do!_

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**Chapter Thirty-One**

Seeing the anger that had sparked on Snape's face when she had mentioned Harry having the Potions books, she had been hesitant to tell the Professor that she now had possession of the book. However, the do-gooder in her had come to life, and the words had spilled from her lips before she could stop them.

"I have it."

She watched through the curtain of her bushy hair as the anger turned to shock." You? You have it? How? Potter, hand over a book filled with such… such... things… to someone who might have actually have a shred of sense?" Hermione recognised his almost compliment, but chose not to mention it.

"He doesn't know that I have it," she whispered. "He put it in the room of requirement last year, and I retrieved it on the first day back this year before anyone could find it. It… fascinated me." She kept her eyes focused down, despite not being able to see beyond her feet in the darkness.

His voice was dangerously low. "You studied my book."

A heat in her cheeks told her that she was blushing furiously. "Yes, sir," she whispered.

"Your studying of my books ends right now, Miss Granger. I want my book returned to my office in twenty minutes, not a moment later." He did not have to make the threat to let her know it was there. She watched as he took the little light hat surrounded her and strode away into the darkness, leaving her alone and feeling glum.

Seventeen minutes later, however, she stood outside his office door, clutching the book tight. She had tried hard to slip unseen into the Gryffindor common room, something that was near impossible, due to the latest common room password being a loud "ROAR", which the Fat Lady took quite delight in making the students scream to get in. After ignoring her friends, she had fetched the Advance Potions book from her third drawer and now waited to turn it over. Willing herself to stop trembling, she raised her hand to knock.

Quite suddenly, the door was flung open by the Professor, whose terrifying sneer was even more pronounced. Hermione tried hard not to step back out of fear, as he loomed over her. "Do you have it?" He snarled.

Shaking, she held up the book. "Yes, sir."

He snatched the book from her hands and strode into the office, leaving the door wide open. "I did not intend for anyone to find this book, Miss Granger." He murmured as he sat behind his desk, setting the book down in front of him. He did not touch it, resting his hands on either side of it, his lank hair falling forward to cover his face. Hermione found herself quite suddenly wanting to brush the hair away to see his face. "I do not know how Horace Slughorn managed to ever find it, let alone Potter."

"Professor Slughorn gave it to Harry, sir," Hermione informed him.

"Figures, that fat piece of lard never noticed anything in front of his face unless it spelt out on the front cover that he could benefit from it." He shot a dark look at her, then waved his hand. "Sit, Miss Granger," he snapped. "I wish to discuss what you may have read in my book."

Carefully, she sat in the harsh wooden chair before his desk, folding her hands in her lap. "You don't like Professor Slughorn, sir?"

"No, Miss Granger, I most certainly do not. How often do you hear of my liking anyone?" His mouth twisted into a bitter smirk. "I've little time or patience for someone who does not appreciate Potions. While Slughorn may have talent, he never bothered to learn how to really appreciate such a fine art that is Potion Making." Hermione did not fail to catch the gentle caress that wrapped around those final words. "He does nothing out of love, simply out of upping his own personal status."

Hermione's mind flitted back to the conversation they had a little over half an hour ago, and the reasons before Professor Snape handing the job of Defence Against the Dark Arts job over to the fresh faced Professor Reginald Hammond. The man clearly enjoyed his potions. She wondered if there was anything else the Professor before her actually liked doing. Her mind came back to the conversation at hand as Snape opened his old school book.

"I trust you've not written in my book," he whispered in a dangerous voice.

Quickly, Hermione shook her head. "No, sir, I've not. I just read it."

He looked up at her, his teeth bared. "I'm glad you found my book so… fascinating was how you put it, I believe. Though after the marks Potter managed to achieve with it, it's hardly surprising that you would have wanted to read it."

"Professor…" she took a breath, wondering what kind of punishment she might find herself with. "I think it's wonderful."

He considered her for a moment; his eyes searching her face and Hermione wondered what he was looking for. Finally, he glanced back down at the book and spoke. "No doubt you would, Miss Granger, with all the potions I managed to perfect, all the spells I managed to write in my final years at Hogwarts, all recorded in these book. I spent so much time on those things, only to have it all fall into the hands of bloody Potter. Tell me, did he know it was mine?"

Hermione swallowed. The last thing she wanted to do was tell Snape what Harry had told her of the last time anyone saw the Potions Master before Remus Lupin found him. She simply settled for "No, sir, he did not find out until after he had thrown it away."

"So you knew when you retrieved it?"

Blushing, she lowered her eyes to study the floor beneath her feet. "Yes, sir," she whispered. "I was just so interested in what you had written, how you had managed to correct all those potions."

"You'll do anything for knowledge, won't you?" the sneer that should have accompanied those words was no where to be seen, much to her surprise. She dared a look at him, and his features were cast in a way she could not read. She wasn't sure how to answer him, so she chose to be quiet, letting a silence fall over them. He turned his attention to the book, turning the pages carefully, running his long fingers down each page. Never had she seen him so gentle towards anything except the actual potions ingredients. Then she remembered the way he had applied her healing potion over the time she had been ill. Quietly, she watched him for a few more moments before he glanced up at her. "What are you still doing here?"

"I… I was hoping I could make use of your private library again, after dinner on Tuesday. I have rounds to do, so I'd be gone by nine."

Definitely not for the first time in her life, she watched as one Snape's eyebrows rose beneath his raven hair. "Your friends, Miss Granger?" Apparently the book beneath his fingertips had been forgotten for now.

Hermione met his gaze squarely. "They have to learn beyond the classroom, Professor, in all aspects of life."

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With a scowl, Harry watched Hermione re-enter the Gryffindor Common room. Her presence had been announced by her roaring quiet literally at the Fat Lady. While at first the Gryffindor's had been amused by this new type of password, the joke was soon wearing thin.

Ginny must have felt his tension spread when he spotted the Head Girl, because she pulled him a little closer as they both sat, reading. "What's going on, Harry?" she asked, running a hand up the back of his head.

He could have pretended he didn't know what the red-head was talking about, but he knew it was pointless. Sometimes he wondered if she knew him better then he knew himself. Which, he mused, was really quite likely, seeing as he thought he hardly knew himself anyway, especially now that the war had passed. So he chose to answer his girlfriend honestly. "I'm worried about Hermione."

"You can't stop her from studying so hard." Ginny murmured as Hermione lowered herself to a table with several large books. Harry scowled again as he wondered where those books might have come from, whom they might have belonged to.

Turning back to the fireplace, he slid an arm down Ginny's back. "No, it's not that. I mean, yes, it is, but it's in a different way." He took a breath, seeing the expression on Ginny's face – he knew that curious look all too well. The fiery witch wouldn't rest until he'd told her everything. He took another breath. "She's been spending a fair bit of time with Snape." He was shocked when Ginny's face turned to a calm expression. "Gin, she spent the night in his chambers last night!"

"Have you spoken to her about it?" she asked quietly. Harry might have been amused at any other time by the fact that she had not bothered to ask how he had known. When he nodded, she asked him what she had told him. After he had finished explaining what Hermione had told him, he was surprised that Ginny turned her attention back to her Defence Against the Dark Arts text book.

"Ginny!" Harry whispered in astonishment. "What kind of reaction is that?"

Ginny turned her attention back to him. "Harry, as much as I love you, perhaps you're simply reading too far into things, you know, jumping to conclusions." She grinned at him. "It wouldn't be the first time. Besides, you said it yourself; he can't be all that bad, not after what V-Voldemort made him do. If he were bad, wouldn't he have done that himself?"

Oh, how Harry hated it when his intelligent girlfriend could use his words against him. "This is different Gin, really. She's been disappearing at night after dinner, and not coming back until after curfew. She's not in the library, she's not in her room, and she's not scheduled to do rounds. I felt like she was lying to us the other day, how could she had gotten back without us seeing, there's no other way." He paused. "She told us she just hadn't answered the door, but I just know she wasn't in there. And Snape wasn't at dinner that night. Then she goes and spends the whole of last night with him."

"Harry, what if she's just studying? NEWTs are coming up, and you know she gets frantic. She's found somewhere to study, it doesn't matter where it is, she's going to take up that chance. And how many times have we found her asleep in the library?" Ginny shook her head. "Hermione wouldn't do anything like that with Snape; he's her teacher, and a greasy bat at that. But, she did spend a week with him, and he did seem to take good care of her. What if now he's just helping her study? What if it's just like she said – she fell asleep and he took care of her?"

Harry knew his girlfriend was coming up with a perfect explanation, and he kept telling himself that he was foolish for not accepting it. But even if Hermione was just spending her time down in the dungeons, studying, then why did she lie about it, not tell them where she was and go running off into the dungeons? _Probably because she knew you'd be a moron about it_, Harry thought.

Truth be told, Harry knew he simply did not want to accept that Snape might be a decent guy, after all the crap he had put Harry through over the past seven years. Then a terrible thought loomed over him – the past two years contained crap that Snape had not even had control over. What if Hermione was right, he was okay, and just hiding it because of the threat that always loomed over his head, always was there. Now, with every particle of Voldemort's soul gone, every Death Eater rounded up, there was no more.

Perhaps his Potions Professor was free to be who he wanted. But Harry felt sure that man did not want to be the man Hermione was painting him to be. Surely he couldn't be that kind.

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_Hmm… well, considering most of this was written on a way back from a trip down to the city, it could be worse :-)_

_It's 4am now, so all hail insomnia and a fight with a friend which fuelled my need to write. Lol, enjoy it! It felt good to write it :-)_


	32. Afraid

_I promise to stop making the characters so frustrated at the moment, I'm feeling very frustrated at the moment and it seems to be wearing off on my writing. I truly am a brat! It's really quite a mental chapter._

_There is not much dialogue in this chapter, I didn't feel it was needed. Yes, this yet again another thought devoted chapter, looking at how everyone's feelings and how Snape is dealing with things._

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**Chapter Thirty-Two**

Over the next few weeks, Harry felt as thought his suspicions about Snape not being the man Hermione thought him to be seemed to be concreted. The once snarky Potions Professor seemed to go from worse to worse yet, and Harry, after being in the class of the man for seven years, truly did not believe it was possible. But apparently it was. The horrible man became even more unbearable during class; Harry was surprised that Neville had not died from fright during a few of the lessons where Snape appeared to be in a particularly bad mood.

Students did not dare venture outside their common room beyond curfew anymore, whereas once they often did. But not a single student wanted to meet that whirling black robes of fury that appeared to be Professor Snape these days. Even the Slytherins were finding their house points diminishing, but no house was losing as many as Ravenclaw. For some reason - which Harry was sure he knew the answer to - Snape was not taking out all of his problems on the Gryffindors for once.

Yet despite the rage that swooped along the corridors of Hogwarts, and the terrified squeaks of students and the tears that had erupted during the classes, Harry noticed with a sharp distaste that his best friend Hermione seemed completely oblivious to any of it. With the fast approaching NEWTs, Harry admitted to being highly surprised that the brilliant witch was noticing what she was eating – though once or twice he suspected she wasn't eating at all. She was often not seen for hours on end, though reports from other students informed him that she was curled in the corner, becoming as snappy as Madam Pince

Once or twice, while using the enchanted Marauder's Map to sneak back to the common room after taking a stroll, he could not help but notice that his friend's ink dot was currently placed in the chambers of one Severus Snape, usually accompanied by his little dot. Though he would not give her the satisfaction of commenting on it, he highly disapproved of this time she was spending with him. What was she studying down there? She'd refused to tell him, saying he wouldn't understand, he wouldn't care. The words had stung, but they had come soon after the row that ended with her stalking from the common room and not being seeing until many hours later.

The two friends had not spoken for a few days after that, and Harry found that Snape's attitude towards him had turned nastier as well, bringing Harry to the conclusion that whatever was Snape's problem these days had something to do with his friend. If he was really that annoyed with having her study in his rooms of a night, then why didn't he just tell her leave? Something stirred in Harry's mind when he realised that it couldn't have been just that. So what was going on?

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It was barely a month before NEWTs when Hermione first really began to take notice of the terrible mood swings that Severus Snape seemed to be suffering from. While she had heard from the other students, and more than once comforted a crying one, that he was being more terrible then anyone had ever experience, she found that she hardly had time to notice or care. As long as he allowed her to keep studying in his chambers, with his most marvellous book collection, she wasn't about to be fussed. Often she was left alone in his rooms as he had work to do as well, preparing for classes which were steadily becoming harder. Hermione found it no trouble to keep up with the work load, but began to fear that the other students may not. She'd starting helping Neville with his work, and Harry, but a few times had just shouted at them and left, unable to take their unwillingness to really apply themselves to anything outside what they truly loved. And it drove Hermione wild.

While she worked in his rooms, they had managed to conjure up a working relationship, talking about what they needed to and nothing more. A few times she managed to find herself setting her work aside for a moments and indulging in conversations about other things. She found herself talking to the Severus Snape she'd met while sick, the man who had looked after her and was kind to her in their conversing. She found the conversations much more interesting then the ones she would have likely encountered up in the Common Room.

It was one night in the warm spring Saturday afternoon that Hermione found herself sitting once again on his floor, near the dying fireplace. It was not late in the day, hardly. She'd only rushed to lunch to grab a small bite before heading down his dungeon rooms, seeing that he had not been seated at the midday meal. When she reached the dungeons, she'd hardly gotten a reaction out of him as he paced his office floor, into the sitting room, potions lab and bedroom, back and forth, walking seemingly unconsciously along a well worn path.

After awhile, she began to find his pacing quite the distraction. She'd been having a bad day, with Harry and Ron begging her for help. Ron had become intolerable in the past few weeks, as he and his girlfriend had unfortunately split. In his usual form, he had started throwing dark looks across the common room at Harry and Ginny would snuggle up, and often, she found herself on the receiving end of dark looks from him. Harry had clearly told him of where she was spending an evening or two a week.

She had left the common room that afternoon for no other purpose then to get away from the tension that crackled in the air like sparks around the common room. Fifth years were facing their OWLs soon, and with school exams coming up for the rest of the year, everyone was beginning to throw themselves in to a study routine. Anyone who dared break it was seriously reprimanded by Hermione.

Personally she found it odd that whenever she craved a bit of solitude these days, she found herself crossing the threshold into the private rooms of the Potions Master. His company had proved to be pleasant, despite the dark mutterings about him that were widely sweeping the school halls. What had been most shocking to her however, was that day, before making her way to his rooms, she'd heard three young Ravenclaws talking.

"Do ya reckon the Head Girl is related to Snape?" One had asked.

The others snorted. "I wouldn't be surprised. Even though she's meant to be muggle born, look at the attitude on her! Always sniping and demanding silence."

The laughter had trailed off through the corridors as she kept walking, their words ringing angrily in her ears. They brought back unpleasant memories of her first year when Ron had said some quite nasty things about her after proving herself in a Charms class. While it was before they were friends, those words still affected Hermione to this very day.

Watching Snape pace his determined path through his rooms, she remembered the words of the Ravenclaws. Well, if she had an attitude, she should be able to stand up to him and his ludicrous pacing.

"Sir?" she asked, her quill poised over her parchment. "I hate to be an insufferable child, but that pacing is getting to be a bit much."

Much to her surprise, he simply glared at her, and strode into his office. She waited the few seconds until he came out, but it never came. It was only then that she really began to wonder what was worrying the man. Noticing her quill dripping ink over her parchment, she let out a frustrated noise and dropped it back into her ink well, before turning her gaze back to the office.

He was sitting with his back to her, his head tipped back over the chair, his black hair falling over his face. Silence fell over the chambers as it often did when she was there, except this time, the scratching of quills could not be heard. Knowing she wouldn't be able to pick up her quill again, Hermione folded her hands in the lap, thinking of what was happening with the Potions Master.

Lately she had suspected that he had been sleeping very little, or at all. His pale complexion seemed waxier then ever, and dark circles surrounded his black eyes. Though she had seen it, realised it, it was only now that she felt a rush of worry for the man who sat so oblivious in his chair. He was obviously stressed, more stressed that she'd ever seen him, and she could only wonder why.

Pausing for a moment, she stood and approached the office door. Perhaps, it was time to find out.

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Snape threw himself into the chair behind his desk, covering his eyes with his hands. He was angry, he was tired, he was hungry, he was frustrated, he was… he didn't know. He didn't know why he didn't rip to shreds the witch who was plaguing his thoughts. It would be so much easier to deal with… this.

He had been most horrified when one night, he had sat in his office, anticipating the arrival of the little witch to his rooms. He had found himself looking forward to having someone in his quarters, someone to talk to. Oh, he'd known that he was lonely, and that the girl's presence was welcome, but never, _never_ had he wanted to find himself anticipating her time spent in the chamber, sitting quietly on the floor, exploring his many books, being so careful not to disturb him. She alone seemed to appreciate the need for peace, as he discovered from their numerous chats about the behaviour of the Gryffindors of a night.

Truthfully, he was disgusted with himself for awaiting the time she would spend reading in his presence. He had allowed himself to make a vow to care for her studies, help her as much as he could, but he had never wanted to allow himself to care for the chit herself. But, now that she was there, he couldn't help but caring.

It wasn't just that, really. She seemed to the only person in the world right now who wasn't looking at him with utter distaste in her eyes. Since the return of his beloved potions book, Snape had found himself on more then one occasion falling into the habits that he had formed at the beginning of this year. The presence of the book in his rooms seemed to remind him of all he had done in his life, all the mistakes he'd made. His mind had decided to push to remember things he had done last year, things that had been shoved into his unconscious mind during the previous two years.

Snape found it unbearably horrid to 'forget' two whole years of his life. He had first tried to recall things, but when he found of some of the things he had been forced to do under that disgusting curse, he wished to the high heavens that he could forget. It was too much, it was too horrible, and it was too… everything. The events of the years plagued his mind at night, crawling into his dreams while he slept.

One night, however, when in his dreams rose the image of the Gryffindor seated in his sitting room, he had forced to wonder if the memories were any worse then what he had seen in that dream. His problems seemed beyond the Dreamless Sleep Potion, nothing seemed to work on chasing the horrid thoughts from his mind, whether they be fantasies or dreams. Sometimes, when his mind was screaming at him for rest, he could not tell the difference.

Night after night, he had begun stalking to castle, not once taking in his surroundings. His classes became nothing but an annoyance and more then once, in his sleepless evenings, he wondered if any of it was worth it. Why was he still teaching? If they were all correct, he had nothing to fear these days. Yet, here he was, his loyalties still lay with the school and its bratty students. His fatigue was driving him into rages that he did not like, causing him to take more points and assign more detentions then ever.

A sound behind him snapped him out of his fatigue fogged brain, and he turned, flipping his raven hair from his eyes so he could see the witch looking intently at him. He cursed silently as he noticed the worry in her eyes. She walked around the desk and stood before him.

"Miss Granger?" He asked softly.

"Are you okay, sir?"

He pondered her question for a bit, wondering if he should answer her question truthfully or not. He decided against it, knowing the truth would send her from his chambers, the idea of never returning well planted into her head. So he opted for a distraction – for both of them.

"I do believe I told you once that I would take you flying again, did I not?" He watched as she nodded, seeing the flicker of shock flit through her brown eyes. He stood, and moved towards the door. When he turned back, she was still standing in the same spot. "Come along, Miss Granger," he commanded. "It will do you – and I – good to get some fresh hair."

He wondered what it was in him that surged when he saw the grin cross her face and she joined him at the door and they made their way out to the Quidditch pitch. Surely, he told himself, it was simply fear of what he had said, his fear of getting back onto a broomstickwith her.

But he was Severus Snape, and he didn't scare easily. No. It wasn't that at all. So what was it?

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_I really wanted to write another flying lesson, and NayNay reminded me of his promise._

_This chapter's a little…. Urg. I hope you all do like it :-)_

_I can also promise this lesson won't be as easy as the previous one ;-)_


	33. Another Lesson

_Yes, I know, it's been a while. I'll probably be only posting every second or third day from now on thanks to school and family – next week I doubt I'll be posting much at all! I hope you all like this chapter, it's kind of weird, lol, but that's meeeeee right now!_

_Thank you every one for your support, I wish I could reply to reviews, I'm just still a little nervous about doing that… just know that you're all wonderful! _

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**Chapter Thirty-Three**

Keeping an eye on the grounds around them, Snape lead Miss Granger down to the Quidditch Pitch, watching as her face changed from a look of apprehension, to excitement, to fear, and then somehow managed to combine all three. He felt secure in his knowledge that there was no Quidditch team practicing that afternoon, and that most students would be studying, for it was not the most pleasant afternoon, the clouds a dull grey and the air heavy with the promise of the coming Summer.

Striding to the broom shed, before he unlocked it, he turned to look at the witch who stood just behind him, to the right. "Perhaps you would be more comfortable if we used two brooms, Miss Granger," he commented.

The way she quickly shock her head as a sign of "no" amused him greatly. "No, thank you, sir. I couldn't. I'd just get…" Her voice trailed off.

"Scared?" he offered to fill in the gap she left, quirking an eyebrow at her, and smirking as he knew how she felt – shame, mixed with anger. He pushed a little harder. "I didn't realise Gryffindors knew the meaning of the word fear, let alone experienced it."

His eyes widened with shock when suddenly the temperamental witch turn on her heel and began to stalk towards the looming castle. "Miss Granger!" He called. "Stop! Wait!" He demanded, regretting his words. How was he supposed to know they'd get a reaction like that? Women! No… girls! Somehow, that didn't fit either… females!

With a few fluid steps, he was beside her. "Stop." He commanded.

"This lesson is an elective, is it not, Professor?" She snapped, not slowing. "Therefore, I can drop it at any stage and not be reprimanded."

Quickly, he stepped in front of her, cutting her off and seeing the fury in her brown eyes. "Yes, Miss Granger, it is." He said in a quiet voice. "However, it would not do well for my Slytherin Pride to allow myself to give up quite so easily. After all, what would that do to my perfect record?"

As he'd hoped, a smile – apparently involuntary - appeared on her face. "So that would be the reason why Neville is still in your class?"

"No, that is not. The fool is intent on becoming an Auror alongside Potter and Weasley. As he did not fail last year's class, I was forced to keep him for this. He has not made a big enough blunder for me to remove him _fairly_ from my class." He paused for a moment. "Yet. I have hope."

Apparently forgetting her anger from a few moments before, Hermione looked up at him with curious eyes. "Was him blundering up the Living Death potion not enough?"

Snape pressed a finger to his lips. "I'll admit that I had forgotten about that incident, Miss Granger. I never reported it, it might have given me that chance."

"Why didn't you report it?"

Before he could stop himself, he let the words slip. "Because I had more important… matters… to take care of." He let his eyes meet hers, and was surprised by what he found there.

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_She's really getting a bit much_, Harry thought idly, watching as Hermione's ink dot made it's way down to the school Quidditch Pitch, accompanied by no other then Severus Snape. It was a Saturday afternoon, one they should be spending in the common room playing games and chatting, but instead, she was going to the one place she hated most in the entire school – the pitch – with the bastard.

Forgetting the real reason he had pulled out the map, Harry couldn't help as anger flooded his body. All the times he'd tried to convince his friend to come down to the Quidditch pitch with him, Ron and Ginny, and yet, here she was, going with Snape. What was wrong with this picture? Surely, she couldn't be allowing herself to go flying with the bat – he probably didn't need a broomstick to fly.

Throwing the map down onto his bed with disgust as Ginny entered the room, he remembered why he had sought out the map. However, his girlfriend did not question whether he had found a suitable space for them within the confines of the castle, seeing the glowering look on his face.

"She's with him, isn't she?"

Harry was in all honesty completely thrown off. Was he really that transparent to her? And why was he really stressing about Hermione that much? "Yes, and guess where they are." She his girlfriend shrug, he motioned to the open map on his bed.

"What the hell would they be doing down there?" She asked him, her red hair falling in front her face as she bent over the enchanted map. "Though we never did think of there…" she gave him a mischievous grin. He let out a groan as she sat on the bed, and pulled her close. "I know you're worried about her." Ginny whispered, entwining their hands.

"I just don't get it, that's all." He muttered. "I mean, she's free to do what she likes, but spend time with him? It doesn't make sense. What would they be doing down at the pitch?" When his girlfriend shot out of his arms with excitement, he began to worry. "Ginny?" He asked, quietly. "What you got in mind?"

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Hermione felt Snape's arm tighten around her waist, and already knew what was coming for her. They'd been out on the Pitch for about an hour, and she was beginning to feel a little more comfortable on the broomstick. She was also beginning to understand when Snape would go into a sudden dive or rocket into the sky by the way he pulled her back into him a little more securely. She prayed it was only the flight that was causing her breath to be taken so sharply.

Fighting the urge to scream, she clenched her eyes shot as they shot upwards, racing to meet the low hanging clouds. They hadn't gone fair before Snape directed the old broom back down to the ground below them. She couldn't watch, knowing the ground was rushing towards them.

When they were back to flying in slow circles like they had the first time, she heard his deep voice. "I remember you telling me once that you trust me."

Keeping her eyes closed, she gave a nod. "I do, sir."

"Then why won't you open your eyes? You don't need to be afraid – despite popular belief, I'm sure, I won't let you fall." She couldn't help but notice the difference in his tone when he spoke of fear now, compared to his snide remarks earlier. "Open your eyes, Hermione."

She shivered, hoping it was from the fear.

Still, she took her time opening her eyes to see the pitch around them, the sky above them, the land below. It was no where near as beautiful as the sunset he had presented her with last time, but intoxicating all the same.

"Do you want to learn how to really fly?" a deep rumble asked her.

"Y-yes," she stuttered. Personally, she thought she was doing very well, as this was her third ever flight. Madam Hooch hadn't bothered to continue teaching her beyond the first lesson, for most obvious reasons.

Suddenly, Snape let go of the broom and retracted his arm from her waist, leaving her sitting unaided on the broomstick. It was with a scream that she realised what he'd done and before she could help herself, she started to topple off the broom sideways. In an attempt to stay upright, she scrabbled at the broom and snapped her legs back, capturing his between them, hoping for a little extra support. She felt him grab her again, but his attempts came tool ate and she fell the short distance to the ground below her. A flurry of black robs later, Snape fell after her, dragged down by her legs. They landed in a tangle on the soft grass, the broomstick still caught between their legs.

Horror washed over Hermione as she realised what had just happened. Not daring to move, her mind screamed at her for being so silly. She didn't want to think of how much trouble he'd be in for doing that. Once again, she clenched her eyes shut again, not wanting to see the angry expression of the man who lay tangled with her, only waited for his menacing voice to come.

He gave a groan and untangled his legs, moving away from her. Somehow, this noise caused anger to flow through her as she realised this was _his_ fault. He should have warned her about what he was going to do, instead of just letting go like that. He knew she wasn't a good flier!

"Miss Granger?" he asked quietly. She heard the rustle of robes, but didn't dare open her eyes. "Miss Granger?" He asked again. Clearly he thought she might have been unconscious, because next moment, she felt a hand brush her cheek.

Her eyes flew open and she found the dark Professor on his knees next to her, looking down on her with an expression of concern written across his pale features. It was certainly different to the expression of anger she had been expecting, and it threw her quite off guard.

"Are you okay, Miss Granger?" he asked quietly, helping her to sit up and brush grass out of her bushy hair.

"I'm okay." Again, guilt washed over her as she saw his concern. "I'm s-sorry Professor." She stuttered, glancing down at her hands. "You just gave me a shock." Heat in her cheeks told her she was already blushing, probably already a brilliant red. Shaking her head, she stood. "Are you hurt, sir?"

He appeared to check, running his hands down his front in his usual manner. "It would appear so." He paused, leaning down to pick up the fallen broomstick.

Before she could stop herself, Hermione giggled. She watched his eyebrows rise silently. "Sorry, sir. I'm just wondering how wounded your Slytherin pride is," she explained, trying to hide her grin.

"Yes, well, perhaps I'll think a little more before I let go next time," he muttered, avoiding her gaze. Instantly, she knew that was the closest thing to an apology she'd ever get from him. "Would you be against making another attempt?"

To say she was only a little surprised would be lying – he'd be willing to try again? "I… I suppose so, sir," she looked up at him, before stepping towards him. She allowed herself to be gently guided back onto the broomstick by him. Once they were seated, she leaned back into his chest as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Are you cold, Miss Granger?" Snape asked quietly while their feet were still firmly on the ground. "You shivered."

"No, sir," she whispered, afraid to move. "Just a little nervous."

"Don't be," he murmured as he launched them gently into that air.

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The first thing Harry and Ginny noticed as they crept into the Quidditch stadium from under the stands, where the figures of two people in a rumpled heap on the ground. They watched silently as they stood, recognising them as Snape and Hermione. Snape appeared to be holding a broomstick.

Harry's blood ran cold as he watched Snape help Hermione onto the broomstick, pulling her tight against him. Ginny also went rigid beside him. "So much for being so opposed to flying," she whispered, a grim expression flitting across her freckled face.

"What is she playing at?" Harry asked quietly, watching as the cozy pair on the broomstick rose into the air and began to make slow circles of the pitch. "All this time she denied us… but she runs off to take an afternoon flight with _Snape_."

It was in silence that they watched the pair soaring lazily above the ground. Ginny almost let out a scream when all of a sudden Snape took the broom shooting into the sky. They heard Hermione let out a squeal, with to their disbelief turned to laughter. They watched as they dipped and dived all over the pitch, with Snape apparently holding tight to the witch seated in front of him.

Harry and Ginny both took a sharp breath, when at the end of one particular dive, the greasy Potions professor turned his raven hair and looked directly in her direction. Harry might have thought that they'd been spotted, if the man's gaze had lingered, which it didn't. After a while, the couple realised that the pair on the broomstick didn't have any intention on coming down for a while, so Harry reached for Ginny's hand.

"Come on, we've seen enough." He whispered as they slipped back into the dim light under the stands.

Walking back to the castle huddled together, they both expressed their concern. Snape's sudden friendliness to Hermione certainly was a worry decided. But they didn't know what they could do about it.

If they could do anything at all.

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_How was that? Hope you liked it :-) I probably won't be able to update until Saturday, at the very earliest. Am hoping to do another chapter tonight, but I highly doubt it!_

_Enjoy your weekends everyone!_


	34. Silent Cares

_Pre-warning once again, this chapter is directly under the influence of me. LOL._

_Thank you everyone for your lovely reviews, they're really so wonderful to read._

_Sorry this one took so long. Hopefully I'll be able to post a bit more during this week, depends on school and stuff (some exciting stuff happening this week, I'm very excited!_

_I'd like to say a big hello to all my reviewers and friends, especially **Kelly, Rhiannon (ROAR **to you!), **Alyson, Miranda**._

_Oh, and everyone, send some health waves and hugs over to **Moonie**, who's feeling a little under the weather._

_Enjoy the chapter, even if it is a little odd (I know, I say that every time!)_

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**Chapter Thirty-Four**

The sun was setting before Hermione realised, and with it, realisation dawned about just how long they had been soaring around the pitch. With pride she had to admit that she was getting better. Quite a few times now she had been the only one with her hands on the broom, the Professor's hand either snaked around her waist, or standing upon the ground watching her. She admitted that had been quite frightening – despite not falling off, she did feel safer, having him right behind her.

But now, Professor Snape gently guided the broom over to the storage shed, signalling the "lesson" over. That couldn't be disappointment she felt, could it?

"It appears we have missed dinner, Miss Granger." He said softly as he locked up the broom shed.

"You really shouldn't skip meals," she murmured, before realising what she'd said.

A look of curiously descended upon his face. "And why is that?"

Hermione kept her eyes firmly fixed on the ground. She did not want to admit to the Professor that she was… worried about him. Ever since she had left his care so many weeks ago, she had noticed how little he ate at meal times, if he were at the meal at all. That, linked with the image of the thin, ill looking man she had seen that one day, was enough to make her worry. But she didn't want to tell him that.

She must have been silent for too long, trying to come up with an appropriate answer, because he repeated his question in a soft voice. Feeling the familiar heat in her cheeks, hoping he could not see her face in the dimming light, she answered him. "I… I've just noticed that you don't eat much, sir." She whispered.

"Really, Miss Granger?" She didn't need to look at him to know that his eyebrow was raised in its usual fashion.

She shifted her feet, uneasy. "It's just that…" she let her voice trail off. "You didn't look well, that's all."

A silence fell over them, and she knew that his was searching his mind, trying to work out what she had meant by the statement. He was quick to work it out, she admitted. "'You didn't mean to look, but you certainly took notice, didn't you, Miss Granger?" His quiet voice was surprisingly calm. Hermione had been expecting him to start hexing her.

She shrugged, letting her shoulders rise and fall in a small movement. "I-I couldn't help it…" she whispered, looking at her feet. Tears filled her eyes, much to her horror.

A rustle told her that he moved. "It upset you, Miss Granger?"

How she wished he could stop addressing her as that. "Yes," she whispered. She couldn't look up, she didn't want to see his face. Would he be angry? Would he be sad? Would he just walk away if she told him?

A hand touched her chin. "It is only I, Miss Granger." He said, as he guided her head up to look at him. She was scared to look into his black eyes. "Why did it upset you so much?"

She jerked her head, letting her gaze fall back to the ground. She felt frozen in disbelief, unable to comprehend what he was asking her, what she might tell him. She didn't want to admit all her frustrations, all her angers. The conversation she'd had with Harry after she'd left her Professor's chambers came floating back to her. _"You weren't down there, you didn't see him. Harry, for the first time in my life I saw that _man_! I saw what this fucking war has done to him, and knew that it'd done it to hundreds like him."_

Willing herself not to cry, Hermione took a breath. "It does not matter why it upset me, sir, I will be wasting your time with such a problem."

"Hermione," his soft voice came. Daring herself, she raised her eyes to meet him, and was shaken by the hurt she saw there. "I believe I spent an entire week with a problem of yours. However, if you are inclined to believe that a problem that quite clearly involves me is not worthy of time, then you are to leave."

More frustration coursed through Hermione's blood. She'd said the stupidest thing, she knew it. "Sir…" she began, wondering how she could fix this. "It frightened me to see you like that, sir." She whispered.

His hand was back on her chin, willing her to look him in the eyes. The hurt was gone, replaced by curiosity and confusion. "Why is that?"

Swallowing to fight back the tears, she kept her eyes on him. "Because I knew why you looked like that."

"Like what?"

Her mouth moved silently as she tried to find the right words to describe what she had seen that day in the dungeon chambers when he had believed her to be asleep. "Like…" she began, swallowing again. What could she say? "You're too thin, Professor." She whispered. "You look so ill, so fragile, but no one notices it. Not until they look closely." Once again, she lowered her head to the ground "It upset me because I know why you're like that. And it frightened me because I know that no one would even bother to think of you like that, that no one would bother to really care if they did see you that way. No one would bother to check, to look closely."

"Because I'm the Greasy Bat?" He asked, his voice floating her and causing silent tears to fall down her face.

"Yes." She whispered, trying hard to keep it all in. "And because of the war." Unconsciously, her fists clenched at her sides. "It made me angry to think that you could become like that, and no one would notice. I don't know what you went through, I don't think anyone does. And I don't know if anyone cares. They see what you did, what you were forced to do and scream for bloody murder, for _justice_." She let out a laugh,

"You are almost wrong, Miss Granger, for the first time in a long time." Her head snapped up to look him into the eyes. "You are right that no one really does know what I went through, and I will admit to you one thing that many people do not know – I do not know myself." A hand waved dismissively before her. "Oh, of course I know what is making all those people want justice, want to see me thrown away in Azkaban, of course I know that.

"But what drove me to… not eat, not sleep, to become to fearsome beast of the dungeons was the knowledge that I do not know what I did." Hermione was shocked by his revelations, spoken in a quite voice she'd hardly heard him use. "Beyond that, it was the fact that I did not what to know. I couldn't know all that I must have done, and live with myself."

"You didn't do it, sir," she whispered, looking up into his eyes as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"On the contrary. I did. I did it all by making the choice that I foolishly made so very many years ago." A small laugh rung out into the night, escaping his lips. Hermione couldn't mistake the anger in his voice, and knew that the anger was only directed at himself. Staring back at the ground, she didn't know what to say. "It was all my fault, really. I could have stopped it somehow."

Despite herself, she shook her head. "No, you couldn't, sir. Just like you can't stop Neville from blowing up cauldrons." Her comment was greeted by another bark of laughter.

"Some things in life are evitable, Miss Granger," he whispered. Once again her eyes rose to meet his, to see the questions within the black depths. They held each other's eyes for a moment, before he whispered three more words. "Like dinner, tonight."

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Long after Hermione had risen from her seat and left his chambers, Snape sat in the handsome leather chair, his head tipped back, his hand holding haphazardly a tumbler in which sat a small amount of Firewhiskey.

The meal with Miss Granger had been most enlightening after their conversation in the twilight by the Quidditch pitch. He still was no entirely sure what had possessed him to invite her to his chambers to share a meal with him. He supposed he needed to prove to her that he could eat a meal. Now that he had though, he was finding it hard to keep it down. Like many times before, his body was rejecting the food he had forced into it. He could tell he was in for a rough night. The copious amount of Firewhiskey he intended on consuming was certainly not going to help.

He was also not sure what had possessed him to tell the student half of things he had done so that evening. Over a late meal provided by the House Elves of roast lamb, in which she had carefully watched him eat, he had told her about the first war, about what had happened, of the horrors he'd seen. He knew that she'd read it all in a book anyway, so it was nothing new to her.

She had admitted her fears to him, the fears of a world that she was finding still so hard to cope with. "If it doesn't involve books, I don't know anything about it," she had whispered, much to his amusement.

In truth, the evening had brought him to begin worrying about her. The young woman was so academically obsessed, so brilliant, that she had no idea how to cope with the world around her, he realised. He feared for how she would be able to stand outside the confines of the castle grounds, how she would deal in a world where books were considered unimportant. He had found himself having the very problems he believed she would have in the near future. Much to his surprise, he felt anger surge though him. She shouldn't have to go through that.

It wasn't as if her friends would be much help. Potter thought himself above the rules, the laws that made up the world, and Weasley couldn't survive without someone by his side telling him what to do. There was no doubt in Snape's mind that Hermione was the strongest of the group, and that brought upon more fears.

It was little over three weeks until the seventh years would be sitting their NEWTs. Snape knew that Miss Granger would fly through them without a problem. For the first time in his sixteen years at Hogwarts, he was almost dreading seeing the seventh years leave. Oh, it would be such a pleasure to have Longbottom, Weasley and Potter leave, along with all the other annoying shits he'd had to deal with over the last seven years, but he found himself fearing for the future of Miss Granger. While he was sure she would not make the same mistakes he had – that was impossible! – he still feared.

This scared Snape beyond belief. He did not _fear_ for the future of students beyond the walls – he chose to forget about them, wipe them from his mind as he moved onto teaching the next bunch of ungrateful children. He put his worries down to the time the young witch was spending in his rooms, studying.

Satisfied with that, and knowing it was nothing more, he raised his tumbler to his lips, quickly swallowing the amber liquid that resided within it before reaching for more. It would do him well to get drunk tonight. At least he knew he wouldn't be visited by know it all little Gryffindors would help him, talk to him, care for him in his drunken state.

His mind paused on that thought. Did Miss Granger care for him? From their conversation, he had gathered that she was simply annoyed at the world for ignoring him, or not noticing him rotting away to nothing in his dungeon chambers. Did she actually think he didn't prefer it this way, to be left alone by the world? He groaned – was he becoming a pet project, like the House Elves had not too long ago? Thankfully she had disbanded that project after a revolt by the Elves against _her_. Snape smiled, an actual smile, thinking of that amusing little event. Surely she couldn't be thinking that?

Raising the glass to his lips once again, Snape refused to think of the idea that Miss Granger, the annoying little Gryffindor, might actually care for him. But as he slowly got drunker and drunker, he couldn't help but think of the positive things that might come out of such a care. His last coherent thought before he surrendered to the giggling mass of black robes he became while under the influence, was that it might not be so bad to have a little witch care for him after all.

As long as she didn't expect him to care for her back. He let out a giggle as he slid away in his mind, knowing that he already did.

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_Hmm… I don't know._

_Next chapter, Hermione and Ginny have a little chat…_


	35. Threats

_Hello! Two chapters in as many nights, that's pretty good for me at the moment, lol. This chapter sort of came from no where, so bare with me._

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**Chapter Thirty-Five**

Upon returning to her room, Hermione found herself so deeply lost in thought that she almost missed the quiet knock at her bedroom door. When she did realise it was a knock, she instantly knew it wasn't one of the boys – they had a tendency to attempt to bash the door down. Wondering who'd be knocking at her door at eight o'clock, she crossed the open and opened the simply wooden door.

Ginny Weasley stood on her doorstep, a bright smile matching the flame coloured hair that adorned her head. "Hey Hermione, how are you?" She said, stepping into the room before Hermione had a chance to offer her entrance.

"Hi Ginny," Hermione responded, trying not to let a smile slide across her face. She didn't really want Ginny to know about the time she'd spent on a broomstick that afternoon, or the dinner she had shared with Professor Snape that evening.

But apparently, she needn't worry, for it seemed that the younger witch already knew. "So how'd you like flying?" Ginny asked with a grin.

Hermione's mouth dropped open. Surely Ginny couldn't have seen her and the Potions Master out on the Quidditch Pitch – Hermione hadn't seen anyone. _But then again_, her head reminded her, _remember who her boyfriend is_. "It's… not as bad as I thought."

Ginny's nose wrinkled. "I would have thought that you would have hated it even more now, look at who you were flying with!"

"And just how do you know that I was flying, let alone flying with someone?" Hermione asked carefully, taking a seat on her bed, trying not to fidget with the doona cover on her bed. She then realised just how different her crimson bed spread to the black satin that covered Snape's. Not that she wanted to think about Snape's bed.

A hand waved dismissively at Hermione. "Oh, Harry and I were just heading down to the Quidditch Pitch earlier to… Get some practice…" Hermione snorted, knowing exactly what kind of 'practice' those two would have been planning in the middle of the afternoon in the empty Quidditch Stadium. "And when we arrived, there just _happened_ to be a broomstick out and about, carrying the two most peculiar people."

At this, Hermione rolled her eyes. Sometimes, Ginny was just too much. "So?"

"_So_ what's going on?" Ginny asked eagerly. "I know you've been spending a lot of time with Snape, Harry's been right furious about it. But now he's seen you flying with the greasy bat. After you've spent the past seven years that you'll never touch another broomstick."

Hermione looked away. Bloody Harry, it wasn't fair that he was spying on her. Using the map on her in the middle of the night was one thing; she could have forgiven it then. But now, he was creeping around in the middle of the day to check up what she was doing – for now she hardly believed a word of Ginny saying they were already heading down there – and daring to get upset with her.

"You think I was going to be interested in learning how to fly properly with him and Ron when all they could ever do was talk about flying? It bored me, which I think it perfectly acceptable." Hermione said, with an air of dignity.

Ginny raised an eyebrow, and Hermione's mind flashed back to Professor Snape's perfectly arched dark brows. "Yeah, but neither of those are the great vampire of the dungeons."

"I think the fact that he was outside in broad daylight says that he is indeed not a vampire, Ginny. I also think you've been spending too much time listening to Harry and Ron's idiotic ramblings and accusations about the Professor." Hermione wasn't sure if she should regret the words, when a look of horror struck the red head.

But the horrified expression was quickly replaced by a grin. "You've got a good point, Hermione. But seriously, why'd you go flying with him? I mean, hell, why spend any time with him at all?"

Moving over to the window, Hermione shot a dark look at the younger witch. "Has Harry told you that I've actually been studying down there? Study I couldn't do anywhere else other then here at the moment. Ginny, I'm finished with Hogwarts in a very short time – I need to do as much work as I can." She thoughtfully turned to inspect the pitch black grounds that stretched beyond her window. "And in all honesty, it hasn't been all that bad. He leaves me to my work most of the time."

"Then what was today all about? He didn't look like he was leaving you alone when he helped you up from the ground."

A blush crept over the Head Girl's cheeks. "I'm not all that sure what happened. But Ginny, it's not the first time it's happened." She smiled, recalling the time he had 'delivered' her to this very window. "I think… I think he's just a lot more frustrated by life more then any of us realise." She didn't want to tell Ginny about the conversation they'd had over dinner.

"Well, you're still late back from a lesson; it's been dark for ages."

Hermione ducked her head. Did she want to tell her friend that she'd also dined with her Professor, had talked to him about things she hadn't talked about to anyone. She wasn't entirely sure why she had done that, but for the first time, he didn't seem to mind. He seemed wanting to listen, and in his own way, talk back. "I know," she started. "I was talking to him about some things."

"Talking to Snape?"

"Professor Snape."

"Him." Ginny laughed. "Seriously Hermione, what could you talk about to him?

Taking a few moments to try and come up with an appropriate answer, the older witch kept her gaze out the window. When she finally answered, she spoke slowly. "Lots of things Ginny. I can talk to him about school, about what I'm doing after school, about the war, about things that everybody else just wants to sweep under the rug and forget about it."

Turning back to Ginny, she saw the youngest Weasley had her head lowered to the ground. "It's over, Hermione. I just want to forget about it all."

"What about someone who doesn't remember anything to forget?"

A silence fell over the two girls. Hermione realised then that the shoulders of the girl were shaking, so she left her window perch to cross the room and sit with the younger student. After a few moments, the girl quietened, and Hermione dared to ask, "Was Harry very mad?"

Ginny looked up, her eyes slightly red, but a small grin playing on her face. "I think he was just… really shocked. He still doesn't trust Snape, oh alright, _Professor _Snape," she corrected, upon seeing the look on Hermione's face. "I suppose he is a bit angry with you. You'll have to see."

"Oh… were you angry?" Hermione wasn't sure if she really wanted to know the answer to that question.

"No, not really. I knew you were spending time with him, but didn't know anything else." Ginny shook her head. "I think I was more hurt by the fact that I'd offered to teach you how to fly in the past, yet you allowed Professor Snape to do it."

Hermione gave her friend a rueful smile. "Sorry Gin," she said. "I didn't ever think I'd learn how to fly, let alone he teach me."

"How'd it start?"

Hermione settled in to tell Ginny of the first flying lesson, of the view, of the delivery back to the window of her room. By the time the story had concluded, Ginny's eyes were round and shining. "Oh, wow." She said, breathless. "He flew you all the way back here? That certainly doesn't sound like Snape."

Another rueful smile was given to the witch. "He doesn't sound like Professor Snape in any regard, anymore."

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Harry was coming down the staircase to enter the Great Hall for dinner when a swoosh of black robes coming up from the dungeons announced that Professor Snape was making an appearance at the Sunday evening meal. Harry groaned inwardly, he had avoided seeing the Professor all day and was hoping to continue doing so, since he and Hermione had managed to have a 'talk' about what Harry had seen the day before.

But Snape didn't have to know that he'd seen, right?

When the Professor's black eyes caught his own, Harry remembered how those same eyes had passed over him and Ginny down at the Quidditch Pitch, and an uneasy feeling told him that Snape did indeed know that he'd been there.

"Potter," came the usual sneer.

"Sir." Harry opted for a quick nod before turning towards the Great Hall.

"A word, Potter."

With a gulp, Harry followed Snape over to a corner of the huge Entrance Hall, away from prying eyes of anyone coming and going from all directions.

"I believe you made a rather interesting observation out on the Quidditch Pitch yesterday, Potter." Snape spat out.

Harry's hatred for the man before him swelled. _Fuck Hermione_, he thought furiously, as he watched the Potions Master loom over him. He didn't care what she said about Snape being different. Dumbledore had thought the same, had trusted the man, and look where it had gotten him. Harry felt his chest tighten as he thought of that, and his hand gripped the wand concealed in his robes. He didn't care about what any of the Order said. Standing there in the corner of the Entrance Hall, Harry knew that the _man_ was not to be trusted.

"You needn't bother with your foolish wand, Potter," Snape spat, his upper lip curling in his usual look of disgust as he glared down at Harry. Harry did his best to glare back, hoping to put the same amount of hatred into his eyes. "I've no intention of harming you at this point."

"You needn't bother harming Hermione, _sir_," Harry snarled at the man, not caring if he were a professor or not. "If you hurt another friend of mine…" He was shaking uncontrollably, he couldn't explain the levels of anger that was flowing through him as Snape stood above him.

"Fifty points from Gryffindor, Potter, for threatening a Professor!" Snape snarled, his face twisting into one of utmost loathing. His voice suddenly took quite a drop. "And I'll have you know that it was her who put me in danger of being hurt, she's the silly witch that dragged me off the broom." Harry didn't bother to try and hide the shock that accompanied the barely concealed softness in that statement. But he didn't have long, because he found the Potions Master's wand pressed against his throat.

His voice was back to one of quiet menace. "If you do anything to harm Miss Granger's chances at this school, whether they be by your problems with where she spends her free time or your ridiculous tendencies to attempt to attract her attention with endless talk of Quidditch, you will pay." Harry could hardly comprehend what the Professor was saying. He, have something to do with Hermione doing not as well as she could? "Your father may have been able to do anything he liked while here and get away with it, but I assure you, Potter, that you will not." The wand tip dug a little further into Harry's throat. "If you have a problem with _me_, I beg you; come talk to _me_ about it. Do not make your friend suffer because you are too childish."

With a flick, the wand was gone from his throat, and Snape had turned, making his way towards the open doors of the Great Hall. Harry stood frozen in shock, watching the Professor's retreat.

What the hell had just happened?

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_My only thoughts right now are "what the hell did just happen?" LOL I was not expecting that one, but oh well. Let's just see where it goes follows the plot bunny Oh, it says we'll have to wait until next chapter!_

_Goodnight!_


	36. Why?

_--Stares off after the Plot Bunny that rampaged through last chapter--_

_Who's ready to see where this little bunny has lead us all? I'm not sure if I am game enough to start typing…. LOL Enjoy this chapter people, it's based around dealing with what Snape has just done – and just WHY did he do it?_

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**Chapter Thirty-Six**

Hermione watched as Snape stormed down the lines between the tables in the Great Hall, his luminous black robes billowing out behind him in their usual fashion. She was surprised by the look of pure disgust that adorned his face. It was indeed a look she had seen many times before, but still shocked her to see it. It was a look that was only connected either to Harry or Ron.

Turning back to the huge doors that lead out to the Entrance Hall, Hermione watched with growing apprehension as Harry came into view, looking a cross between shaking with anger and fear. _Oh God… _she thought, her eyes widened. She turned to Ron, who hadn't seemed to notice anything. Ginny, one the other hand, was also flicking her eyes between the seemingly furious Potions Master and her dark haired boyfriend. _What the Hell just happened_, she wondered, watching them all carefully.

Harry approached the Gryffindor table, took his seat next to Ginny, reached for a plate of roast chicken, and without looking at Hermione, let out a string of obscenities. "How dare the fucking asshole threaten me, who the fuck does he think he is?" He muttered hotly, spearing a piece of chicken before letting it fall. Hermione, Ginny and Ron all sat back, shocked. "What fucking guts, saying that. He's the asshole who'd do it, not me."

"Harry?" Ginny asked quietly. "What happened?"

The intensity of the anger glowing in Harry's eyes threw Hermione off course for a moment. "What just happened is that slimy piece of shit just had a go at me, threatened me." He spat furiously, turning his attention back to the plate, before looking at her. "Seems he's got the idea that I'm going to upset you, throw you off your studies, annoy you, oh and worst of all, stop you from seeing _him_!"

To say Hermione was taken aback would have been a gross understatement. "What are you talking about, Harry?" she asked in a low voice.

The furious wizard went on to describe the encounter in the Entrance Hall. As he was talking, Hermione spied the Potions Master scowling at his untouched dinner. After a few moments, the tall man stood and strode back down the Great Hall, earning himself the glances of many students around him, all of whom quickly turned away.

Once Harry had finished his story, he rounded on Hermione. "Tell me, Hermione, what the Hell was that about? What the fuck have you been telling him, down in his little rooms?"

Instantly she recognised the suggestion he was making, and was deeply offended by it. "I didn't say anything Harry!" she cried, causing several first years to jump a little in their seats. "I wouldn't do that. Maybe he saw you yesterday, oh Harry, I wouldn't say anything." She was quick to defend herself. "I don't know why he would say that!"

"Because he's a great, greasy, bat!" Ron cried, slamming his fork down onto the table in a fit of anger. "You should tell McGonagall, get the oily bastard into trouble, or hex him. Yeah… we could hex him…"

Harry shook his head violently. "I couldn't tell anyone, no one would believe him. I can't believe so many people are so blind to him still, even after…" his voice trailed off and Hermione watched as his face turned red out of anger once more. "Oh, fuck this, I can't eat, I can't believe this." He stood up. "But don't worry Hermione, I wouldn't dare take any of this out on _you_ and risk messing things up for _you_."

The venom in the words sunk in as Hermione watched her friend, accompanied by Ron stalk off down the Hall. She sat, shocked, her hands on either side of the table. "I can't believe it," she whispered.

"Either can I!" Ginny exclaimed. "What on earth happened? Seriously, Hermione, what on earth was that about?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know, Gin, I really don't." She stared, unseeing at her plate. "He was fine yesterday when I left; we didn't even mention Harry really over dinner, only in passing in regards to the war and stuff… why on earth would he have said that?"

When Hermione turned to look at the red head sitting next to her, she was shocked to see a grin threatening to spread across the girl's face. "What, Ginny?" She snapped. "This isn't funny. Harry could be really mad at me, oh, I can't believe this has happened." She covered her face with her hands.

"Maybe Snape likes you." Ginny whispered mischievously. Hermione let out an open laugh, a sharp, short bark to let her friend know just how ridiculous she thought that suggestion to be. Ginny glared at her for a moment before continuing on. "I don't mean like that, Hermione." She paused. "Well… maybe, I don't know. But come on, don't you realise? Snape was defending you to Harry. We all know how much of ass Harry is being about the whole situation, of course Snape's going to see it too. I mean, shit, we did follow you too yesterday," she admitted, sheepishly. "And listen to what Harry said that the bat threatened him."

Hermione bit her lip carefully. There couldn't be truth to what Ginny was saying, could there? "No, Ginny, it's not possible." She said, shaking her head. "Ron and Harry are always telling me I'm the logical one, and I say what you are saying is completely illogical. Professor Snape hates me."

"If he hates you, why would he be letting you use his private library?"

"He only did that to make up for the fact that he basically threw me out of his chambers after I recovered from that stupid fever." Hermione shot back. Well, why else would he have allowed it?

Ginny gave her a smile. "He not only does that, but he's taken you flying twice now – I bet he didn't do that because he felt sorry for you." The flame haired girl gave a triumphant smile. "And do you really think he'd have kept letting you use his books for so long after one tiny incident – this is Snape."

"There was also the time I found him drunk," Hermione muttered, covering her face again. She still hadn't told anybody about that. And she hadn't meant to let it slip out then – she had, afternoon, told Professor Snape that she wouldn't.

A look of pure delight crossed Ginny's face. "Drunk?" she asked, loudly.

"Shhh!" Hermione instantly hissed. "Keep your voice down!" She quickly proceeded to give Ginny the very short version of the story – how she had returned a book to a very drunk Snape. She left out all details of chatting, touching, brewing. Ginny didn't need to know about them.

By the end of the story, Ginny was grinning. "And he let you _live_ after you saw that? Yeesh, Hermione, I think he does like you!"

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The last thing Snape wanted as he sat in his dark office a few hours later, was to be disturbed. It seemed his one want was not going to be granted, given the quiet knocking at his office door. Pulling his robes tight around him, he made his way to the office door, wand at the ready to destroy what ever annoying brat was planning on adorning his office with their complaints.

However, when he opened the door to see the stormy face of Hermione Granger, he let his wand arm fall to his side. He should have known that stupid little Potter would tell her, and that she would be upset. _Well, fuck her_, he thought, as he turned his back on her, striding wordlessly back to his desk. He'd only bloody tired to help.

"I thought we agreed you weren't going to skip meals, sir."

Her words, spoke in such a low voice, threw him well and truly off track. He had been expecting her to start ranting about Potter – she hardly gave a regard for authority, like her little friends, when she was annoyed. But this was completely unexpected. She must have been watching him in the Hall as he had scowled at his meal, too angry with himself to eat. The little scene in the Entrance Hall had not been planned – Snape had just felt a blinding flash of fury at the site of Potter. He'd remembered the look he'd seen on the boy's face, the look of pure loathing and anger as he thought he'd hidden himself and his little girlfriend away so carefully under the stands. He didn't need more then a glance in the direction to know what was going to happen.

That idiotic, self-obsessed 'hero' didn't deserve Hermione's help if he was going to behave like that. Only Snape hadn't planned on telling the little shit that, he hadn't planned on saying anything. But that flash of fury, the sickening reminder of his days as a student at Hogwarts had fuelled him into action without thought, pressing his wand against the boy's throat. He would not do anything to upset Hermione.

_Miss Granger!_

The young witch he'd felt a want to protect now stood before him, a look of anger across her face, and yet, it was over something completely different.

"Pardon me?" He asked, standing behind the desk, leaning against it with both hands pressed flat against the wood.

"Professor, we talked yesterday, remember?" she said, lifting an eyebrow. "You told me that you wouldn't skip meals anymore." He watched as she bit a lip – was that worry in her eyes?

He brought a finger to his lips, tracing the thin lips. No, he wouldn't think of those lips. "Circumstances call, Miss Granger," he murmured.

"Tell me of those circumstances, sir." She whispered, her brown eyes searching his.

He turned away. She was asking _him_? Why wasn't she taking stupid Potter's word – surely he would have told her. "I'm sure you heard, Miss Granger," he said stiffly, studying the contents of a bright yellow jar on the shelf closest to him.

"I heard, sir." She said. "However, I do not understand."

He let out a bark and spun back to the desk, walking around it and advancing on it. "The great Gryffindor who doesn't understand something?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, sir, I do not." Much to his disappointment, the young witch did not flinch under his gaze. "Perhaps you could fill me in."

He almost froze. How could he explain something that he himself did not know?

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Late, late that night, Hermione found herself sitting upon her stone window ledge again, a blanket wrapped around her to keep her warm. Her orange cat Crookshanks sat purring next to her, receiving distracted pats from his mistress. She barely registered his presence, thinking back to the conversation she and Professor Snape had shared down in his office. _One of many conversations_¸ she thought, giving the cool, clear night outside a wistful smile.

The Professor had told her what had happened, how he had seen Harry yesterday at the pitch. She quietly admitted once again that her friend did not appreciate her spending time in his rooms.

"They'd most likely prefer me in the Common Room, on standby to help them with their homework," she had said bitterly, surprising herself and the Professor. Even more surprising – she realised she felt like the statement was true – right down to the bitterness of her tone.

The past few weeks, when she wasn't researching in the Potions Master's rooms, or in the library, or in class, Ron and Harry were trying to get her to help them with their work. Apparently they'd finally realised just how close their NEWTs were, and were relying on Hermione on getting them through it. It was a pity for her that she had her own work to do – and a pity for herself that she was still allowing herself to actually grant them the help they requested a lot of the time.

"And that, Miss Granger, is why I said what I said," Professor Snape informed her in a quiet, non-apologetic tone. "You shouldn't be hassled with their inability to study – how you have put up with their foolishness for the past seven years is beyond me. You are a brilliant witch, Miss Granger," he had continued, almost causing her to fall out of the chair she had eventually lowered herself into. "I will not allow brilliant witches, even if they are Gryffindors, to be dragged down by the likes of the infamous Potter."

"It's never affected my exams before," she said stubbornly.

Hermione told herself sitting on the ledge, that the expression she had seen in his eyes when she had looked at him at this point had not been gentle. It was hardly possible. _Oh, but it is_, her brain told her. _He took very good care of you when you were ill_.

"I wasn't just talking about your exams, Miss Granger." He had murmured, upon dismissing her for his office and sending her and her confused thoughts back to her private room.

In the Common Room, she had avoided Harry and Ron, knowing they would question her again regarding what Snape had done to Harry. She didn't know if she could cope with it after all she had just learned. Ginny caught her eye and mouthed "tomorrow" at her, signalling a want to talk, because Ginny had known exactly where she had been headed earlier, of course.

With a sigh, Hermione shifted off the window ledge, placing the blanket back on the bed and settling down before being joined by Crookshanks. Part of her was still confused by what the Potions Master had done. She realised that he was trying to protect her, and obviously not just school wise. She tried not to think of the expression in his eyes when he had told her about his lack of tolerance for self absorbed wizards like Harry berating brilliant witches.

Hermione couldn't help but think it didn't entirely have to do with her, right now, today. And maybe it didn't all have to do with Harry. But maybe another Potter.

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_Well, there's that chapter._

_I'm hoping to get one done tomorrow morning, because if I don't, no one's likely to see another chapter until… oh, my, Sunday! I'm a very busy little munchiken this week! I hope everyone has a fantastic week, please review, I promise I'll try and post sooner then Sunday – I'll tear my own hair out if I have to wait that long!_

_--Hugs-- to everyone!_


	37. Fears and Falling

_This is a really short chapter, but none the less dedicated to the delicious **Spot**, who so adorably let me use his computer (after kidnapping me!)_

_Also thanks to **Wick**, who probably should have been using this computer._

_As the chapter does not have spell check at the moment, I will go over it tomorrow and repost an edited version if needed :-) So please excuse my mistakes! I love you all. _

_I've only just been able to find my Bunny for the moment, he's been very elusive, thanks to much tiredness!_

**---------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter Thirty-Seven**

The cool exterior of the tall man that swept along the corridors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was in complete contrast to the boiling that was going on beneath the surface. Snape was agitated, more then normal, and students were once again suffereing at the hands of his mood. His black cape billowed out behind him, making students scatter in fear of losing points for their house, even when they were doing nothing more then moving quietly towards their classes. They knew, like he did, that he didn't care about what they were doing, the simple fact was that they were in his way.

His face remained in it's usual menacing scowl, his black cloak billowing behind him, his hands clenched by his side. He was on his way back to his dungeon classroom after a meal in the Great Hall. He had been kind to Miss Granger, he had attended every meal since their conversation nearly a week ago. And how had she repaid him? By _avoiding_ him. Usually she'd spent maybe a night or two during the week studying in his chambers, and he's found himself relishing in the quiet company, the ideas she muttered under her breath as she read.

But she hadn't been once, not since last Sunday when she'd come to find out what happened with Potter. It was now Friday.

Trying hard, he could almost convince himself that she'd been busy, she's the Head Girl, she's got duties to attend to, along with study to complete - she was going to be having her NEWTs in about two weeks. He could almost convince himself that she wasn't avoiding him - she never looked at him in class anyway. He could almost convince himself that she'd managed to get the House Elves to bring her every meal, that's why she hadn't been in the Great Hall for meals, despite his efforts.

Almost. But not quite. There was always that doubt hanging about in his mind.

He'd come to realise, once again, how cold and lonely his dungeon rooms just were. The quiet company Miss Granger had supplied him with was comforting all the same, and he had enjoyed her presence in his chambers. And as hard as he tried to tell himself that he didn't miss her company, he did.

Without seeing the students who fled his presence now, he felt his anger deepen, his scowl become more pronounced. How he pitied to fourth year Ravenclaw and Slytherin class he was about to teach.

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Later that evening, Hermione pushed her bushy hair away from her face. The past week, either tucked away in her dorm room, the Gryffindor Common-Room, or the school library was almost enough to get her back into her old habit of chewing on the ends of her hair, forcing them to become limp and knotty, as horrible as her thick hair already was. Glancing up, she realised that once again, she was the only student left in the school library. Studying for her NEWTs, study she'd foolishly set aside for her own study in the depths of the castle, had left her feeling tired and weak.

Or maybe it was the fact that she'd hardly eaten all week. She'd not had time, inbetween the tiresome efforts of her Professors to set them up for their NEWTs and the revision she'd set herself. At the beginning of the week, she'd rushed through the Great Hall to grab a bite, only to be cornered into staying for something "proper" to eat by Ron and Ginny. For the first time in a long time, it was Ron who was talking to her, and Harry who was not. Harry had only sent a glare in her direction - he clearly still believed she was the blame for Professor Snape's outburst at the beginning of the week. But she'd not had a chance to think about that - and did she really want to?

Not wanting to endure the glares, or the cornering, she had taken to visiting the kitchens of an evening for a quick meal to get her through the days. For three days she's survived, and she knew she couldn't take much more. Thankfully, it was Saturday tomorrow, and the final Hogsmeade visit for the school year. The weather was now much warmer, and she knew that the whole of Gryffindor House, from third year and above was planning on taking full advantage of the day. The day before, she had visited Professor McGonagall, requesting being allowed, even as Head Girl, to stay at the school to study. She'd felt terrible, but she knew that her studies came first.

The Headmistress had asked her if there was anything else that was bothering her. Not wanting to lie, Hermione had told the older woman that it was "nothing that she didn't think she could fix before the end of the year". And she seriously hoped that it was true. She did not want to end her school year on a bad note with Harry. But the end of the year was drawing closer.

Leaning back in the library chair, she stretched for a moment, realising just how close the end of the year was. A shudder ran through her. She'd been reading information on several jobs that were avaliable for students just out of Hogwarts, but she'd been disgusted by all of them. And she'd already made her choice that she didn't want to work for the Ministry of Magic, until it's had a total reform. With a snort, she realised that there was a very big chance that she would not be working at the Ministry of Magic at all - compared to Ron, who was very anxious to get marks that would allow him to become an Auror for the Ministry. She hoped that he'd make it - even now, after all he'd been through, he felt that was not quite as good as all of his older brothers, that he didn't live up to any of them.

Maybe she'd travel, she thought. There were courses all over the world on all aspects of the magical world, and she felt a need to learn everything she could. Surely they could be the perfect opportunity. In each of the courses, there was the chance to earn money, of which she probably wouldn't need, thanks to the generous contribution her parents made towards her education. They were well off, Hermione knew it. She could take that chance to keep going with her own reasearch.

With a groan, she remembered the personal study she hadn't had time for this week. She wished so hard that she did, she had found that her personal studying down in Professor Snape's chambers was quite the relief from the people and work of the school. But she wasn't entirely sure if it was a good idea to descend the stairs to the dungeons with the apparent foul mood that the normally snarky Professor was in. She had seen him storming about the school, his pronounced glare more prominant then ever. Then again, she remembered the difference between the man who stormed about the castle, and the man who had taken her flying, her let her sit in his rooms and study. Why was he such a different person?

"Library's closing, dearie." Madam Prince called down the huge room towards where Hermione was sitting, her squeaky shoes letting Hermione know that she was crossing the room between the shelves.

Sighing, Hermione picked up her books and collected all the notes she had made over the past four hours. Realising she had little time to make it back to the Gryffindor Common Room. Despite being Head Girl, she had found that making her way to the Common Room and collecting any students along the way probably saved quite a few from the wrath of the stressed Professors. More then once she'd caught Ron making his way back from somewhere - but she was kind enough not to ask. She was really beginning to learn the power of silence.

Turning a corner, she let out a gasp and jumped, her books dropping onto the corridor floor as she ran into someone coming the other way. Looking up, she found herself face to face with the angry Professor Snape.

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Snape had been stalking about the castle for the past three hours, knowing for a fact that he needn't worry about a certain Gryffindor trying to acess his rooms to study - he had seen her out of the corner of his eyes heading to the library hours before and knew that she'd been lost within her study for hours. He tried not to envy the library - how badly he wanted her company. He didn't try to explain why, didn't dare.

But now, he had been about to turn a corner to head back to his chambers, deciding to make another attempt at a particulary difficult potion he'd been trying to perfect. He had been trying for three weeks now, and it just didn't seem to be working, and along with everything else, he was reaching his wits end.

As he turned the corner, he was surprised to find someone coming the other way. He almost let out a cry of surprise as books flew in all directions, hitting him. His hands instinctively reached out to stop himself from falling over, grabbing the upper arms of the student before him, who had let out a squeal of surprise as they had both turned the corner at the same time, running into each other.

Looking down, he was surprised to find his face inches from that of Miss Granger's. _Oh God,_ he thought, unable to move. Their eyes met, hers huge and filled with fear. Her fear caused anger to slip through his veins. So she was avoiding him - why else would such fear be showing in her brown eyes? Her breath was coming short and she began to stutterd. "P-professor, sir, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I was just trying to-"

"Miss Granger, I ask that you refrain from storming about the castle in such a manner," he cut her off in what he hoped was a smooth voice. "You are Head Girl, are you not? I do not believe that the 'usual rules' apply to you, as you called them one day, I seem to recall. Therefore, there is no reason for you to be rushing about in such a way."

He watched as her eyes seemed to settle. He considered taking points from her precious Gryffindor House, but he stopped for a moment, for the first time ever, to wonder why he would be. Simply because she nearly bowled him over, or because she hadn't been down to study in his rooms? Deciding against taking points, then almost regretting it, he realised that his arms were still clutching her upper arms, and her arms must have reflexivly grabbed his back, as her arms were holding tight to the robes that covered his thin arms. He wondered if she'd realise that he'd be eating, then tried to tell himself that he didn't care. _Why didn't it seem to be working!_

Quickly, he took a step back from her. retracting her arms. She apparently wasn't expecting it, for her arms stayed holding his, and he found the young witch being thrust towards him, hitting his chest. With another squeal, she lost balance, and began to fall, taking him with her. Before he knew what was going on, he found himself slamming down onto the ground, a sharp pain rushing down his back. Something fell against his chest, and he knew without looking that the silly witch had landed upon him. He opened his eyes to find himself looking into the more horrified-then-before face of Hermione Granger. A strange thrill ran down his body as their eyes met and froze.

What was that behind the fear in her eyes?

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_Okay, it was short, I know! Hopefully I'll get the next chapter up by Saturday. My Plot Bunny has left me stranded for a little, and since I won't be able to post for a day or two, hopefully he'll come back!_


	38. Couldn't Be

_Sorry for taking an extra day! Hope you like this chapter! Thank you everyone for your reviews!_

_Also, a big thanks to everyone who went searching for my plot bunny!_

**--------------------------------------**

**Chapter Thirty-Eight**

Hermione's breath was coming in short, sharp gasps as she realized that she was lying not on the stone cold floor of the corridor as she should have been, but the thin chest of Severus Snape. Scrambling, she tried to pick herself up, only to get her hands caught in his cloak, which was tangled on the floor beside them. Falling again, she landed, a small "oof" coming from the Potions Master.

"Careful, Miss Granger," he murmured, his arms coming back to rest on her arms, stilling her before she could make another bad attempt at sitting up. So she stilled, her chest pressed against the Professor. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and she was shocked by the amusement that was hidden in the dark tunnels of his.

"I… I'm sorry." She whispered, shaking. An amused Professor Snape was probably more dangerous then an angry Professor Snape. Their eyes caught again, along with her breath. Her eyes flicked down, and before she could stop herself, she found herself examining his lips. They were thin, most likely from being pressed together in a grim line, or pulled back into a snarl. Her breathing hitched as she suddenly imagined kissing those lips. She found herself horrified that she would think about that, but strangely not repulsed.

She tried to tear her thoughts away from such an idea, but couldn't manage it until he spoke again. "Perhaps you could kindly remove yourself from my chest?" He asked. "Slowly, this time." A smile seemed to flick through his expression, yet never quite making it to his mouth.

With his guiding, she raised herself up, moving off him and leaving him sprawled across the hard floor. She sat up, twisting around to look at him. "Are you hurt, sir?" She asked softly.

He also sat up, running his hands down his chest in their usual manner. "No, I appear to be fine. Perhaps my ego is a little bruised." 

She offered him a small smile. "But it was I who was… 'storming about the castle', I believe was how you put it." To her surprise, she was rewarded with an upward quirk of his lips. She felt heat rush to her cheeks and she remembered almost wanting to know what it was like to kiss those lips. Quickly, she turned her head, hoping he either wouldn't notice her blush, or would take it as blushing about the entire incident.

"You are right, Miss Granger, you certainly were." His voice did not seem quite as accusing as it usually did. "Might I ask where you were in such a hurry to?"

"Gryffindor Tower, sir." She replied simply. "It is nearly after curfew." 

"As you have reminded me on several occasions, Miss Granger, curfew does not apply to you." She watched an eyebrow arched and his lips twitch again, to her irritation. She was even more so irritated by the irrational thought that rushed through her mind.

"Yes, sir, I am. However, other students are not, and I wish to attempt to save them from trouble." She informed him, silently adding that he was the trouble she wished for them to avoid.

"Right, Miss Granger." He whispered, his eyes searching hers again. Desperately, she wished he could look away. More then ever lately, she understood what Harry had told her about feeling like the Professor could look straight into his soul and see everything. She hoped to all Hell that he couldn't do that – she'd hate for him to see the inappropriate thoughts she'd had.

If he had managed to invade her mind without her knowledge, he did not show it. Instead, he rose gracefully to his legs, standing to his full height, before surprising Hermione once again by reaching down and offering her his hands, to help her to her feet. She gratefully accepted, and noticed the callous on his palm as his hands closed around hers.

His hands stayed holding hers until she was steady on her feet. "What are you doing, sir?" she asked, hoping to sound innocent. "You are not scheduled to do rounds this evening." A perfect arching of right brow told her that he was shocked that she knew when he was booked for rounds and not – but no other moment betrayed that shock. "I've access to the staffroom, sir. The rounds are posted there; I also need to know when I'm on duty."

"Of course you are, Miss Granger." Snape replied smoothly. "Not that it is any of your business, I was, like you, searching for students. However, I assure you that I had entirely different intentions." 

"I knew there was a reason I had to protect the students tonight." Words came spilling out of her mouth before she could stop them, and she brought a hand up to cover her mouth as soon as they'd slipped out.

A chuckle met her words, much to her disbelief. "Quite correct, Miss Granger. Would that also happen to be the reason you've made yourself scarce from my chambers this week? Protection?"

Heat once again rushed to her cheeks. She'd already felt bad about missing her study, and thinking at one stage it was perhaps for the better, considering the state of the Potions Master. However, she was quite surprised to learn that he had clearly noted her absence. "No, Professor. It's just that my NEWTs are approaching, quite fast, as I'm sure you know." Words came tumbling out of her mouth, trying to find an excuse that her Professor might accept. "I've wanted to come and continue my study…"

"Yes, of course, NEWTs," Professor Snape's lips pressed together in a thin line, showing his displeasure. Hermione couldn't help but wonder about just what it was that he was displeased with? The upcoming exams for the entire school, or her lack of time spent in his chambers. Surely it couldn't have been the last.

To break the silence, which was almost uncomfortable, that had settled over the pair of them in the dimly lit corridor, Hermione leant down and began to pick up her books which had scattered themselves during the collision. The appearance of a long, pale hand in her line of vision told her that the Professor was also helping her. Once or twice they both reached for the same book at the same time, before both turning away from it, offering the other the chance to pick it up.

"Ladies first, Miss Granger," he murmured smoothly, after the third time, picking up another. Blushing, Hermione picked up the final book before standing, this time deciding to tuck the books into her book bag. Professor Snape stood at the same time, holding out her copy of _Advanced Charms_.

"Thank you, sir," she whispered, taking the book from him, allowing his eyes to catch hers. _Big mistake_, she thought, as his eyes held hers, once again seeming to search her soul. "I – I should keep going," she stuttered out, trying to look away.

"Perhaps you need escorting, Miss Granger, if only to see that you avoid any further accidents. Some people mightn't be as… kind as I." Hermione nearly laughed at this, the idea of Professor Snape calling himself kind. But she accepted the offer of an escort, nodding her head in shock and beginning to walk down the hall towards her room.

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Minerva McGonagall watched the retreated pair with growing interest. She had seen part of the encounter, draw by the female squeal that could be heard three corridors away. Rushing quickly to the source of the sound, she had been quite shocked to see Severus Snape and Hermione Granger laying on the floor of the corridor, seemingly fallen there.

Half of her was ready to rush in and save the Gryffindor from whatever Hell the grumpy Potions Master was about to give her (for she'd heard more then enough about the state of the man's temper the past few weeks), but another half of her reminded her of what happened last time she had rushed in to save someone. Unconsciously, she rubbed her chest with a hand, trying not to think of the five stunners that had hit her there two years ago.

So she'd stayed in the shadows, watching as the pair detangled themselves from each other and sat for a few moments in the corridor. Thankfully, despite the hushed voices they were using, her hearing was still sharp enough to capture some of the conversation they had engaged themselves in.

Her senses had pricked to alert when she heard Severus say "_Would that also happen to be the reason you've made yourself scarce from my chambers this week?_" Hermione Granger was visiting Severus Snape in his private chambers after class hours? She certainly couldn't have been visiting them during class hours.

Thankfully, Hermione had mentioned something about study, which worked to douse any disgusting ideas that had formed in the Headmistress's mind about what Hermione might have been doing in the man's chambers. But what study would she have been doing there, that she couldn't do in the Hogwart's School library?

With a troubled mind, Minerva continued on her original route, wondering what was happening. Severus Snape would have probably killed a student for bowling him over how Hermione clearly had. Yet he had not, instead _politely_ inquiring as to where the witch was off to, followed by why she had not visited him. Minerva shook her head. Severus allowed no one into his private chambers. The few times he had visited him there before the unfortunate incident with Hermione getting ill, he had quite plain that though she was Headmistress, she was not welcome in his private quarters.

Minerva had watched Severus closely ever since she had left Hermione in his care, despite hardly catching a glimpse of the man during that time. After she had left, Severus had seemed not different, except his temper seemed to flare up more easily, and he had begun to attend the meals in the Great Hall more regularly then he had once upon a time. Minerva had had no idea that the young Gryffindor might have been spending time with him outside of the class.

Even though there were only two weeks until the Seventh-Years commenced their NEWTs, after seeing the gentle way Severus had dealt with Hermione just then, Minerva thought it best that she should have a talk with the Potions Master of Hogwarts sometime very soon.

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Snape returned to his dungeons straight after he had finished escorting Hermione Granger to the Gryffindor Common Room. He had asked her about her plans after school, and she had admitted with fear that she still had almost no idea. The only comfort he could find her in words was the thought that no matter what, the young witch could not possibly make the same mistakes he had upon ending his education at the grand castle.

Standing out of sight of the portrait of the Fat Lady to bid goodbye to Miss Granger, Snape had felt an unexplainable urge to invite the young witch down to his chambers to do some studying tonight. After the amusement he had felt after their tumbling in the corridor, he did not feel ready to retreat to his cold dungeons.

Thankfully, he had managed to resist this somewhat frightening urge, and after wishing Miss Granger the best of luck with her studies, he had swept off. Why he had wished her luck was beyond him – he knew that the talented witch did not need the luck, and also, he just simply did not wish students luck without making them tremble in fear at the way he said it. A small feeling of glee rose in him as he remembered the many students he had managed to terrorize over his years.

Yet Miss Granger, it seemed, was not terrified of him, not anymore. Oh, he knew that she had been in her earlier years of the castle, but not anymore. He couldn't help but feel that the time she had spent down in his rooms had caused that feeling to vanish, and he wasn't entirely sure if he was happy about that, or not.

Stripping himself of his black cloak, he settled onto the couch in his private rooms. He gave a snort. _Not that they were so private anymore_. Well, before this week, they had not been. Now he feared that they would return to their usual cold, empty state. The more he thought about it, the more the fear of such an idea grew.

He tried to tell himself that he was just being silly, and that he could welcome anyone into his chambers if it meant a distraction from the thoughts that threatened to plague him when he was left alone at the end of a long day. Even though he knew that more often then not these days, those thoughts were not of what might have happened during those two years that he could not remember, but of a someone.

Growling, he summoned a book from his impressive collection, catching it and opening it. A second later, a tumbler of firewhiskey was cradled in one hand as the book lay open in his lap. Though he had read every book in his library more then once, he did enjoy indulging himself in a random one at times, reabsorbing the information that was stored in a filing cabinet at the back of his mind. Idly, he wondered if Hermione did the same thing.

Flicking through the book, Snape's attention was a caught by a piece of parchment that sat between the pages. Pulling it out, he saw that it was covered in writing and symbols in Miss Granger's hand writing. Reading what she written, what she had proposed, Snape caught his hands running across the paper in a gently caress that he only allowed himself when dealing with the most delicate, or dangerous potion ingredient, or a new and very important book.

Looking down at his fingers, at the parchment, examining the sensations that were washing over him, something inside him snapped. He dropped the paper, picked up his tumbler of firewhiskey and hurled it at one stone wall.

"Fucking hell," he whispered, his eyes looking at the glass glinting on the dungeon floor, but seeing something completely different. _It can't be true_¸ he thought.

He couldn't be. There was no way….

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_Well, that was interesting, lol. I think. _

_A conversation between Minerva and Snape next… I think…. --Looks at plot bunny for confirmation-- He knows better then I!_

_Oh, and the strange parts of this chapter can be blamed on a song I'm listening to at the moment, one I downloaded from Alan Rickman site… it's Alan Rickman singing about being a fish named Joe and doing something intelligent… It's really pretty damn funny. Anyone want to know more? Ask away :-)_


	39. Realising Torture

_Blurg. It's Monday, I think I've got the flu or something, I feel really crappy and this chapter just kind of came tumbling out. Nothing I wanted to happen happened, lol, but that's okay. _

_Enjoy the chapter anyway, and hopefully I'll be in more control of the next one!_

**-------------------------------------------------**

**Chapter Thirty-Nine**

"Oh, come on, Hermione!" Ron whinged. "We've been studying for hours!"

"And the exams are but hours away!" Hermione cried, glancing up from her Defence Against the Dark Arts notes. Ron, Harry and she were perched in her room, studying away from the frayed nerves of the common room.

Ron gazed wistfully towards the clear sky that showed through Hermione's window. "The exams are a week away," he pressed. "I haven't been flying since we won the Cup, I'm dying to."

"I hardly think you'll die from lack of flying!" Hermione snapped. "But fine, if it's so fucking important to you, go."

Both Harry and Ron hardly flinched at her unusual swearing. They'd suffered through dealing with her during exam time for six years now – they had come to expect it. But Ron still quickly backed off. "No, you're right, I should stay."

For Hermione, however, it was too late. Standing, she snatched up a pile of notes. "Too late, you've done it this time." And with that, she stormed from the room, leaving the boys quite shocked.

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Hermione had already reached the library door when she realised she'd picked up the wrong pile of parchment. Clenched tightly in her hand were her private study notes, not her homework.

With a groan, she leaned back against a wall. There was no way she was going to go back to the Common Room and risk seeing the boys. But she couldn't study without her notes. Looking at the notes which she held, she began to realise that maybe the boys were right. It'd been almost two weeks since she'd worked on her private study – maybe taking a break from revision wouldn't be such a bad idea.

Making up her mind, she made her decent through Hogwarts towards the formidable dungeons, not meeting any students along the way. Since it was a sunny Sunday afternoon, very few students were lingering in the corridors. The fifth and seventh years were most likely studying feverishly, while the other students were probably taking full advantage of the warm weather.

Crossing the large Entrance Hall, Hermione met the first person she'd come across since leaving Gryffindor Tower. Professor McGonagall was coming in through the open front doors of the castle. Behind her, Hermione could see students out on the grounds, some apparently studying while other were just lying around talking.

"Good afternoon, Professor," Hermione greeted the Headmistress.

"And you, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall nodded. "Where might you be headed on this fine afternoon?

Despite wanting to avoid lying, Hermione wasn't sure how the strict Headmistress would react to Hermione, a Gryffindor, heading down to study with Snape during the weekend – and right before exams as well. Surely she'd be angry at Hermione for taking time away from her very important revision.

So it was with a smile that she simply waved the papers in her hand and responded with, "studying."

Thankfully, Professor McGonagall asked no further questions, instead bid her good luck with exams and continued on her path up the marble staircase.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Hermione headed for the dungeons.

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Minerva watched with curiosity as Hermione Granger double checked that no one was watching her, and then made a bee line for the dungeons.

There was hardly a doubt in Minerva's mind as to where the Gryffindor was headed.

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Snape once again cursed the way even the most timid knocking on his office door resounded through his dungeon chambers. However, the cursing ceased when his mind told him just who could possibly be at the door on a Sunday afternoon.

Throwing aside the black towel, he snatched up his wand and cast a drying spell over his body before magicing his clothes on and striding through his chambers to reach his office door.

Just as he'd expected, Hermione Granger stood upon the threshold. It was the first time for what seemed like a long time that he'd seen her outside of class time. Not returning her warm smile, he stepped aside, giving her entry to his rooms.

She stood still, looking somewhat uneasy for a moment. "Do come in, Miss Granger," he finally said, quite dryly. "Unless you do not intend to and wish to leave?" Snape hoped dearly that his slight fear that she could leave did not show in his voice.

Whether it did or it didn't, Miss Granger still entered the office, a collection of parchment clutched in her hand, along with an eagle feather quill. "Am I interrupting anything, sir?" She asked, her eyes flicking to his head. It was then that he realised that while he had dried his body with a spell, his hair still hung wet around his face.

With an irritated flick, Snape quickly dried his hair via magic. Instantly, it was back to its greasy state.

He caught her still looking at his hair, an amused expression on her face. "Something funny, Miss Granger?" he asked softly.

She tired to smother the look, but it was too late. He closed the door, then turned to advance on the witch. "Pray tell, what makes you laugh so?"

"I've just solved the mystery that haunts every student," she whispered and he watched through narrowed eyes as she gestured to his head. "Your hair, sir."

Unable to stop himself, Snape raised a hand to touch the tips of his hair. "What about it?" He hissed.

Miss Granger looked away. "You…" he watched as she swallowed. "You really shouldn't use magic on your hair, sir."

He tried not to let his shock show. "I've no time nor care for anything else." He turned. "Now, come, Miss Granger, I've got something to show you." Without looking to check whether she was following him or not, he strode into his sitting room. He sat down on the couch, and when the nervous witch entered the room, he noted that he stayed standing. "Well, take a seat, Miss Granger." He raised an eyebrow at her.

She took a seat on the other end of the couch, placing her quill and papers on the coffee table that sat in front of them. "What is it that you'd like to show me, sir?" she asked politely.

Raising an eyebrow as well as his wand, Snape said in a clear tone "_Accio Hermione's notes_". A moment later, in his hand he held the piece of parchment that he had found in _One Thousand Forbidden Potions_. Handing it to her, he murmured, "I believe this belongs to you."

However, Snape had to admit that he didn't want to hand it over – it felt like it was his own now, the amount of time he had spent poring over it in the past week. He was guilty of putting several small creases in it. "The ideas are fascinating, Miss Granger." He informed her in a quiet voice, shifting so that even as she held the small piece of paper that was crammed full of writing and symbols and equations, he could easily see it, despite already knowing the entire contents of the parchment by heart.

"I – I didn't mean for anyone to see it, sir," the young witch mumbled, turning red.

He took a small amount of pleasure in her discomfort. "One could assume that you did, leaving it laying around in someone else's text books. However, now that I have found it, and as your Gryffindor mind must have deducted, read it, I must say that I find your ideas most interesting." His lips quirked up into a smirk before he could stop them. "Besides, do you think I was going to let you leave Hogwarts without asking just what you had been studying for so long in my rooms?"

"No, I suppose not," she whispered. She shifted in her seat, drawing his attention to her instead of the parchment. Not a good idea, he realised, as he drew in a breath. "May I enquire as to which ideas you found particularly interesting?"

"The idea that such a potion as the Haunting Potion could be used in a legal, positive way, if lyke was added into the mix at the right time." Before he could stop it, one of his long fingers reached out to show her exactly which potion he was talking about. However, she too had moved to point it out, and before either of them realised, their hands touched.

Miss Granger froze, sucking in a breath. He too froze, his fingertip gently brushing the parchment. She turned to look at him, her brown eyes locking his. A startled kind of look appeared as she seemed to search his eyes. Idly, Snape wondered what she was looking for. Was she looking for the same thing in his eyes that he was in hers?

Before anything could happen, before he could find his answers, a sharp rapping at his office door broke through the room. Instantly, they both snapped their fingers away from the parchment, both turning their heads.

A second later, the rap came again, and Snape stood, smoothing the front of his robes. "I will return in a moment, Miss Granger," he informed her neutrally, before leaving the room, not daring to cast another look at the witch on his couch. He pulled the door that separated his private quarters and his office closed, meaning that who ever was at his door could not know whom he might have been… entertaining.

Wrenching open the door, not needing to even try to produce a scowl, for the interruption had brought upon one of his most vicious, he was surprised to see Minerva McGonagall standing before him. "What do you want?" He asked in a bored tone, holding the door slightly ajar, making it clear that she was not welcome, that he was in no mood to talk to her.

"I think you and I need to have a little chat, Severus." Minerva informed him.

He pressed his lips together. Of course the bloody Headmistress would demand a talk right now, of all times. "I'm sorry Minerva, but I'm currently in the middle of something, perhaps I could come to your office later in the day." He made a move to close the door, but was quickly stopped when she raised her hand.

"You needn't hide Miss Granger from my view, Severus; I know she's down here."

If he had been anyone else but himself, Snape might not have been able to conceal the shock that ran like ice through his veins. The tone in which Minerva spoke, and the look on her face told her this was not going to be a pleasant visit. "Yes, Minerva, Miss Granger is indeed down here." He sneered. "She's been doing some private study down here."

"Allow me to come in, please Severus." Minerva pushed. "I am not going to reprimand Miss Granger or you for her presence down here, as long as you can show to me that it is appropriate."

Snape sneered at the Headmistress, but let the door open more. "You think I would indulge in something _inappropriate_ with a student, let alone with a student from your favoured, precious house?" He asked in a taunting tone. He prayed to anyone who might listen that she would not be able to see past his mask, would not discover that which he had spent an entire week denying since that evening in the corridor.

Not that he had any need to deny it, for it was not real, he reminded himself sternly.

Minerva stepped into his office. "Allowing her to study in your private rooms, Severus? Most unlike you, I am surprised she is still alive."

"It is not as if she has not been here before, Minerva," Snape responded coldly. "I seem to remember that it was you who burdened me with the task of looking after her all those weeks ago." Looking back, Severus realised that the week no longer seemed as though it had been a burden – had it even at the time?

"May I speak with her?" Minerva asked.

"Need you ask?" With a stormy look, Snape swung his wand in a way he knew was too harsh, causing the door to fly open and swing around to hit the wall with a slam, rattling some of the specimens that lined the walls of his office. He just hated the idea of anyone invading his privacy. Which he realised was completely ridiculous, seeming as he allowed a certain young witch to enter his chambers whenever she liked. And lately, she had been invading all aspects of his privacy, whether she knew it or not.

Through the doorway, he saw Hermione still sitting on the couch, a quill in her hand, a book open on the table, some parchment midway through being scribbled on. He smirked, knowing that Minerva would not be able to take this as any way but what it was – innocent.

"Hello, Professor." The Head Girl said, looking up from the open book before her.

"Miss Granger, I must admit to being quite surprised to find you here," Minerva exclaimed, causing a sound of utter disbelief to come ripping from Snape's throat. The Headmistress turned to glare at him. "What are you doing here?"

"Professor Snape has been kind enough to allow me to conduct some private study down here on occasions," Hermione glanced Snape's way, as though checking that it was okay to say that. He gave a tiny nod, telling her it was okay. "I haven't been done here much lately, and I've gotten behind in my work."

"May I ask what you are researching?" Minerva half turned, her eyes locking on Snape for a brief moment.

Hermione offered her a piece of parchment. "I've been looking into alternative uses for seemingly dangerous and forbidden potions." She gave a wistful smile. "Of course, Professor Snape has not allowed me to test these potions, but I believe, in theory, that they would work."

Something swept through Snape, and he knew in the heartbeat that if Hermione were to ask for his permission to brew potions using his private lab, he would not hesitate to give her access.

Minerva politely declined examining the paper that Hermione offered her to look at, instead, asking a few more questions. Snape stood by the door, his black cloak folding over his chest along with his arms, closing him off. He watched the exchange with a neutral expression, all the while plotting ways to throw the elder witch out of his rooms. _Nosey bitch_, he thought.

After about half hour, and forcing Snape to fetch a cup of tea, Minerva left, apparently giving her approval to allowed Hermione to study in the Potions Master's rooms. Snape wondered if Hermione would have kept coming down, even if Minerva had expressed a desire for it to stop. As she was friends with Potter, Snape knew that Hermione had a certain disregard for rules when she thought no one was paying attention.

He hoped, how he hoped, that she would have. But now, he didn't need to worry.

Closing the door after Minerva left, Snape returned to his sitting room, where a nervous Hermione waited. When he entered the room, he watched as a small smile crept onto her face, and he felt something in him jump. Bidding her luck with her studies, and turned and strode back into his office, seating himself at the large desk, staring blankly at the jars that lined his walls.

He couldn't look at the witch at the moment. He had now fully recognised the signs, when a fierce need to protect her had overcome him while watching the exchange between her and Minerva. He groaned and sat back in his chair, tipping his head back.

Thankfully, NEWTs were only a week away. One week of torture, he promised himself. That would be all.

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_Yeah… I don't know either._


	40. Dinner

_Hello! Yes, another chapter. God only knows when I'll be able to post after this one though, have to work tomorrow after school and have things on Thursday and Friday… but oh, I will try, you all know that I will try!_

_I'm posting this chapter before I've had a chance to re-research where I scooped that fish-singing link from, but I will do so! Anyone who wants it before hand, do email me, and I'll try my damndest to find it for you before them._

_Please excuse any OOCness in this chapter. I'm totally dreaming for this, some of this stuff would just be nice…_

_Enjoy!_

**----------------------------------------**

**Chapter Forty**

Thankfully, Miss Granger had been too caught up in her work to take any notice of Snape when he told her he had to leave for a moment. If she had have been taking notice, surely she would have realised that this Sunday he was not scheduled for duty; or perhaps she had been taking notice, and had just assumed that he was off on one of his evening swoops around the castle. Which in a way, he was, just simply swooping down a most irregular part of the school – one he normally ignored in his paroles.

Stopping in front of a portrait, he wondered if he were doing the right thing. The grumbling in his tummy told him that he was – his body was too used to getting regular meals now to start skipping. And it was well past dinner time and the witch in his chambers did not to seem making any attempt to return to her dorms.

Once or twice, he had felt the need to remind her that she had other study to do, study that was certainly more relevant that her current. However, his desire to keep her presence in his chambers had outweighed that in a most selfish way, and he had silently let her continue.

When he noticed that dinner had long past, he had excused himself from the chambers, letting her know that it was perfectly fine that she continue her work without him to supervise. Swiftly, he had made his way into the Entrance Hall, and then back down into the bowls of the castle, though through brighter halls then those of his own dungeon territory. Hardly any students dared to venture down here – he had only known the most infuriating Weasley twins to do so.

Stopping before one portrait in particular, Snape gave it a thorough study. Was he doing the right thing, or would Hermione run away? Not that he could stop her… she did have work to do.

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Moments later, Snape was making his way back through the more comfortable section of the school, through the dungeon corridors, carrying in his hands something he hoped that no student would see him with. Except for the one he planned to present it to.

As he neared his office door, he realised that it was in the process of opening, and he could see Miss Granger coming out into the Hall, looking at the notes she held in her hand. "Miss Granger?" he called, stopping her from closing the door fully.

She gave a jump as she looked up to meet his eyes. "Professor, I was just leaving." She said quickly.

"Yes, Miss Granger, that I can see," he raised an eyebrow at her and watched as she ducked her head. "However, I was hoping that perhaps you would stay a little longer.

Once again, her head shot up to meet his eyes, and he held out one of the plates that he carried, performing a small bow. "Sir?" Miss Granger asked apprehensively.

"We happened to have missed dinner, Miss Granger," he said quite simply. "Though I suspect that this is not the first time in the past few weeks that you have done so." His suspicions were confirmed when a scarlet blush reached her cheeks. "As I have been eating frequently, and have noticed that you have not been doing the same, I was hoping that you would chose to dine tonight." The words sounded pathetic, he knew it. "Perhaps we could step out of the corridor." He gestured to his open office door, and was somewhat surprised when she stepped back through it.

She waited in the office for him to come through, and then followed him through to the sitting room, clearing some space on the coffee table so that he could set the plates of assuages down. As he did, a set of cutlery for each of them appeared beside the plates.

"Do sit, Miss Granger," he motioned to the couch now that his hands were free. Taking his wand from his pocket, he threw a spell at the fireplace, lighting it now that evening had fallen and the air in the dungeons was unmistakably cooling.

"Sir… I really should be doing my NEWT revision." She said somewhat nervously, despite taking a seat yet again on the green couch.

"And just what were you going to do for dinner?" Snape turned to face her, putting on his best demanding voice.

He watched as she fumbled with her hands for a moment. "Oh… well…"

"Stay for dinner, Hermione," he suggested, pushing the plate a little further towards her before also taking a seat on the couch, careful to keep a good distance between them. Before beginning his meal, however, he remembered to summon a flask of pumpkin juice and two goblets.

Unbelievable, she flashed him a grateful smile before picking up the fork. "Sir, if you could summon the juice like that, and also I've seen other people summon food… why did you go to the kitchens to fetch this?"

He flicked her a look out of the corner of his eyes, noting that she was chewing carefully. His mind wandered back to her fourth year when he noted at one stage when he had seen her wolfing her food down at full speed. What a change had happened, he thought, how she's grown up. He regretted losing two years of his life for an extra reason now, seeing just when the once annoying chit had grown up.

"Haven't you learnt, in all your seven years, that I do nothing without an ulterior motive, Miss Granger?" He asked lightly, turning his full attention back to his meal.

To his left, he registered her interest. "And just what was your ulterior motive tonight?"

To his disgust, his mouth almost watered as a thought flicked through his head, but he tried to blame it on the delicious meal that lay before him. "Well, why else, but to catch students out where they are not supposed to be, Miss Granger?" He asked, allowing the corners of his mouth to curl up. Before she could open her mouth, he cut in with, "and yes, I realise that it is still half an hour before curfew, but technically, students are not allowed in the kitchens." He noted with great interest when she blushed scarlet again. But she still managed to ask another question.

"Then sir, your ulterior motive for the actual dinner?"

"Nothing more then to see the Head Girl get a good meal – I've noticed you've not been dining in the Hall of late, Miss Granger, I can only assume that you've been eating elsewhere?" He managed to keep his voice as casual as he possibly could (and for Severus Snape, that was quite a task!), but knew that she'd recognise the underlying seriousness. If she could get on his back about not eating, surely he could get on hers.

Once again, he blamed the flip in his stomach to the scoop of potato that he had just swallowed.

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It was quite late by the time Hermione made her way back through the castle towards the Gryffindor Common Room. She prayed that Harry and Ron wouldn't be up, she knew they'd have already guessed exactly where she had been, as the library had closed nearly three hours ago, but she didn't feel up to facing them at the moment.

She didn't feel up to facing the furious bubble that was threatening to rise in her, to tell her off for the hours she had just wasted, hours she should have been revising for the upcoming NEWTs in. But after dinner, Snape had retreated into his bedroom only to return quickly with a couple of books in hand. He'd not let her use any of the books from the shelves in his bedroom yet, claiming that he should at least have some privacy. In the back of mind, she'd wished she'd had the guts to explore those books while she'd spent the week ill in his bed.

His bed. It was almost a good thing that Snape had finally realised the time as it neared midnight, or Hermione feared she would have been spending another night in the Potion Master's bed. It had been a long few weeks, and after such a filling meal, which she had to admit to him, was her first in quite awhile, and the sound of his voice, after another few hours she had found herself thinking of dropping off to sleep on his comfortable couch. Biting back a smile, Hermione was somewhat shocked to think that the idea of spending the night in his chambers once more did not seem such a daunting prospect.

Her smile grew a little bigger as she thought of the almost lazy conversation her Professor and herself managed to draw themselves into after their meal. She'd had no idea that the man could talk so much, even when she had been forced into staying with him while suffering the effects of the BlueCloud Fever, yes, he had sat with her and studied on more then one occasion, but never had he talked freely about the ideas and prospects in his field.

Remembering some of the things that he had said, Hermione almost didn't notice Ginny sitting by the dying fire side as she crossed to her private room. "Hermione?" the young witch called.

Hermione jumped once again, making that twice for the evening. Turning to see the redhead, she crossed the room to sit with her. "Hey Ginny, you're up late."

Ginny gave the Head Girl a sly smile. "And you're getting in late." She winked. "No need to ask where you've been."

Feeling the usual heat rushing to her cheeks, Hermione ducked her head, turning away from the cheeky Weasley. "I'm sure the boys are having a field day," she said scathingly.

"Oh, come on Hermione, who really cares about them?" Ginny leant forward eagerly in her armchair. "But what on earth were you doing down there? From what Harry said, you've been down there for like _hours_!" She gave Hermione a wicked grin. "You can't tell me that you've been studying all this time."

"Well… no." Hermione bit her lip as she admitted to this to Ginny. The younger witch looked positively delighted. Resigning herself with a sigh, Hermione began to tell Ginny about her day, starting from when she had stormed out of her own bedroom, driven off by the whinging by the boys. "Honestly Ginny, I don't get it!" She said. "They ask me to help them, like I've been trying to do all year, yet still wave me aside when I do!"

Ginny waved her hand impatiently. "Really, I've already said, who cares about them. Tell me what happened with Professor Snape! You haven't been down there for ages; what did he say?"

Hermione proceeded not only to tell Ginny about what Professor Snape had said, but also what the Headmistress of Hogwarts had said in her little visit.

"Sounds like she's giving consent, Hermione!" Ginny giggled, wiggling her eyebrow suggestively.

"Oh, stop it, only consent to allow me to keep studying down there. Besides, it'll probably be the last time that I can before NEWTs! And during NEWTs, so she needn't worry. And you needn't get any ideas in your head either, missy!" Hermione gave her friend a stern look before continuing on for the rest of the story.

Ginny couldn't help but interrupt when Hermione began to tell her about the dinner. "_He brought you dinner!_" she practically shrieked. "Hermione grabbed her friend by the arm.

"Quieten down Ginny, the whole bloody castle will hear you if you shriek it out like that!" She said, giving an odd sort of embarrassed grin. When the red head had managed to quieten down, she demanded to know full details of just what had happened down in the dungeons over dinner. "He asked me why I hadn't been eating lately – _and_ threatened to take house points off if I skipped another meal. Can you believe the nerve?" Hermione tried to hardest to ignore the cheeky grin on Ginny's face. "And after dinner, we just sat and talked about Potions and careers in Potions and stuff like that."

Ginny was still grinning. "I can't believe that Snape has a crush on you!"

It was Hermione's turn to jump and almost scream. "_WHAT?_" She thought that her younger friend had finally stepped around the bend, or that Harry's continuos insistence of coming up with rumours and plots about everyone was seriously wearing off on her. And she told her friend so. "That's completely ridiculous Ginny, and you know it." She scoffed. "The poor man's probably just lonely.

"And you're more then willing to provide said man with company?"

Hermione stood. "Honestly Ginny, don't you dare insinuate that I've got a crush on Professor Snape. Perhaps I don't quite hate him as much as I maybe once did, but that's as far as it goes. Goodnight!" She turned and stormed across the common room, leaving her friend doubled over in silent giggles on the floor in front of the fire.

Getting ready for bed, Hermione thought over what Ginny has said, hoping to find more evidence that her friend was truly mental for having such an idea. Instead, she found herself lying back in bed, recounting the conversation they'd engaged in for hours after dinner. It had been most interesting, a lot of the theories that he'd had, that he could back up with books that she had only ever dreamed of getting her hands on.

The smile that had strayed across his face as she had left his chambers earlier, only due to the time, surfaced in her minds eye, and she found her smile returning to her face. Snape really was an okay man, she told herself. He'd certainly been most kind to her the past few months, never reprimanding her in class, nor chiding her for knowing answers. He'd not blown up as he normally would when she had barrelled him over in the corridor (though she still secretly thought that it was partly his fault as well!), and he had been a completely different man during the hours she had spent in his chambers.

Hermione felt almost saddened when she realised that it would be at least three weeks before she could spend any time with the Potions Master, for she would busy all week, and then NEWTs ran over a two week period beyond that.

In the last few days, before the Hogwarts Express would take her and the other seventh years away from the castle for the last time as students, she made a promise to herself that she'd go and spend a little time with him, in chambers.

She tried to convince that it was the prospect of studying down there that made her smile, not the memories of a lovely afternoon spent with him. As she fell asleep with a gentle smile on her face, she knew that it hadn't worked. But she refused to believe it could be anything else.

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_--Rolls around on the floor for a bit, playing with a ball of wool--_

_Opps, please excuse me!_


	41. A Horrifying Connection

_I'm going to warn you, right now._

_This is really quite a much darker chapter to anything I've already written in this fic, please take note of that_

_This chapter features death, already occurred, so if that bothers anyone, please, don't read. I don't want to upset anyone._

_It is all based on a recurring dream I used to have. Even the bunny. Just obviously not with HP characters :-) Well, it was the same, up until a certain point._

_I promise to return to lighter stuff after this chapter, and sincerely hope that no one is put off my story by this one…_

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**Chapter Forty One**

_Watching the bunny cross the Quidditch Pitch, Hermione wondered why she was sitting up on her usual little place. What had happened that had drawn her there? She tried to think, but the bunny keep attracting her attention. It was wearing a bright red, sequined hat, and it was a brilliant white in the afternoon sun._

_Looking up, Hermione saw that the sky was a perfect blue colour, not a cloud marring it's brilliance. She sighed, leaning back and dangling her bare feet over the edge of the Quidditch Stands. A thought asked her to examine why she wasn't wearing any shoes, but she chose to ignore it, glancing over her shoulder._

_There once again was the white bunny. However, behind it was not the other side of the stands, but a long and dark hallway. Hermione stood and begun to make her way down the hallway, lead by the bunny. She followed it past doors and doors, something told her to just follow it._

_The doors were made of many different things, some set with jewels, some blank, some looking as though an over excited three year old had been let loose with crayons on it, one looking like an angry teenager had taken charge of the decorating committee. They were all set about three metres from each other, and Hermione wondering what was behind them._

Nothing important…_ a voice whispered in her mind, and she knew it was right as she kept following the glowing white bunny in his sequined hat. Hermione smiled, knowing it wasn't the bunny that had whispered those words, but someone that she would know when she met them. Something told her that she'd met him or her along her somewhere, when she reached the right door._

_Past one encrusted with diamonds, another covered in words looking as though they had been clipped from a newspaper, one with faces drawn on every spare inch of it. Each door stood still and silent, and Hermione suddenly realised that she could not see anything next to the door, only the doors themselves, and the bunny ahead of her. Was she in Hogwarts now, or somewhere else?_

No where important… _whispered the mysterious voice, urging Hermione to walk forward. She knew that she'd discover where she was soon, very soon, just around the corner. It didn't matter that she couldn't see a corner._

_A door to her right suddenly flew open, throwing her off guard and causing her to topple into the door that directly adjacent the newly opened one. Hands reached to grab her, hands she could not see, but only feel. She shrieked, struggling to get away. The hands released her, and she stumbled across the corridor and into the open doorway._

_The door slammed behind her quite suddenly, and she found herself in the darkness. However, ever ahead, she could see the bunny in the distance, now apparently left the corridor and waiting at the end of this room for her. For she knew it was a room. Taking a small step towards the bunny, she screamed as a torch flared on either side of her, enough to throw her into its dim light. Twisting to see the torch, she screamed again._

_There on the floor in front of her lay the body of a young man she did not know. He was laying perfectly still, eyes closed like he might be sleeping, but the whispering voice in Hermione's mind told her that he was indeed dead. Turning away from the man, trying to silence her scream, she faced the other wall. She was only to be confronted by another dead body, this time a very small child, her pale hair spread out on the cold stone below her._

_Screaming, she began to move towards the bunny again, something in her telling her that the bunny would protect her, he and his pretty red hat. Smothering her screams, she took a step forward, clenching her eyes shut as light flared around her again. She tried to step forward, she did not want to look around her, knowing that more bodies would be laying at her feet._

Look, child, you need to see to continue…_ the whispering voice urged her. Not questioning it due to the heavy feeling that was covering her feet, she opened her eyes a fraction and peered down to her right. It was an elder man this time, with greying hair and dirty clothes. Hermione shuddered, not wanting to look to her left, but she gave in, spying the body of a middle aged woman with dark hair. She looked familiar…_

_Not allowing herself to search her mind for just where the woman might be familiar from, Hermione took another step forward, feeling once again the heavy feeling pooling around her feet. She turned her to head to see who lay at her feet now, feeling as though she might throw up at any moment. This new person only intensified this feeling._

_Cedric Diggory._

_Clenching her eyes tight against the sight, she only allowed herself a brief glimpse at the baby who lay to her right._

_Another step, two more brief glimpses. Another step. More dead bodies lay at her feet. Tears started streaming down her cheeks as she went, her sobs filling the huge room as she saw the dead. She knew now, without the whispering voice telling her, that these were all victims of the war, the most recent war against the Dark Lord. Horror boiled up inside her as she went from body to body, seeing every one of them in their death, no pain, nothing. They were dead._

_Sobs racked her body as she went, clutching at her chest at the horror, at the pain she felt for them in place for their… deadness. She could do nothing but feel their pain as she walked towards the bunny, glancing at the bodies that lay on the cold floor around her, not in the graves where they had been buried, where they belonged. Here they lay before her, showing her just how many lives he had taken from her._

You need to understand…_ the voice continued to whispered._

"_I DON'T WANT TO UNDERSTAND!" She shrieked, her voice echoing off the walls around her and the roof above her, all of which she could not see. Her hands went to her hair, and she screamed, seeing the bodies around her suddenly all come into light._

_The bunny seemed to beckon her and she ran towards it, no longer seeing the bodies before her. But suddenly she was falling, she thrust her hands out before her, and she landed hard on her palms, feeling a sting shoot through her arms as she jarred them. Now that she was at the same level of the bodies lying in their neat lines down the length of the room, she found it so much harder to deal with. Her body racked against itself, screaming to die and be released from it all. But when the release did not come, and the bunny seemed to beckon her, the light reflecting off his hat, she raised herself back up._

_Horror swept through her again, as she found herself suddenly looking down on the body of her old Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore._

_Forgetting the bunny, and just needing to escape, she turned and made to run the length of the hall, only to be stopped when she ran into something large, dark and warm not even a step into her journey. She did not care who it was, something told her this was the body of the voice that had spoken to her, and she quickly threw her arms around the body, sobbing into the black._

"_Make it stop, make it stop!" She screamed, feeling strong arms come around her back, one resting in her hair. The body gently rocked her._

"_It's gone, Hermione, it's gone." The arms held her, swaying her from side to side. The voice, sounding outside of her mind she recognised as that of Severus Snape, but enclosed in his arms, unable to see the room of bodies, she did not care, she couldn't have felt more safe. But his arms pulled her back, and she fought it. "Hermione, it's gone, look around you, it's gone."_

_Carefully, she opened her eyes, finding that she was standing in his private chambers. This comforted her even more then if she had been in her rooms, or anywhere else, and she threw her arms back around him, sobbing with relief against his chest. "All those people, all those people," she sobbed._

_A long hand started stroking her hair, causing her to cry even harder. "I know Hermione, I've seen them all too. Now you know why I can't sleep."_

_She pulled back, and looked up for the first time into his pale face, his black eyes, searching. "You saw them all?" she asked, forgetting all formality._

_Sadness filled his eyes. "I still see them Hermione. This is not your place."_

_Realisation dawned her on. "This is not my place," she whispered, looking deep into his eyes. "This is yours… how am I here?"_

_He drew her back into him, folding his arms around her. "Because, apparently, you needed to know. Which leads me to ask… just who is having this dream?"_

_Confusion swum over her before she could do anything. All those bodies… who cared who was dream? Dream? It wasn't a dream, she told herself, it wasn't a dream._

Her body twitched in her sleep, telling her that she was waking up.

"_Don't leave yet, Hermione," he whispered. His black eyes held hers, and she felt compelled to stay in his arms, in his eyes, in his dream. Who's dream was this again? "I'm wondering the same thing." She started when he said this… had she said that out loud? "I think we're sharing this dream, which I'd always believed impossible, even when Minerva told me that she's shared a dream with Albus."_

_Hermione realised what he was talking about. Sharing a dream was rare, it was…_

Slowly, sensations from reality seeped into her mind. She desperately tried to fend them off.

_Looking into his eyes, she gulped. "Do you understand?" he whispered. She gave him a nod, and before she could do anything, his lips covered hers in a desperate kiss._

_With a harsh shove _she found herself thrown back into reality. Her fingertips flew to her lips, but as her mind searched desperately for the reason behind the tingling feeling that was lingering on them, she could not find one. What had just happened?

She tired to cling to the details of the dream. She saw the bunny, saw the pitch, saw the hall, the doors, the room, the bodies… she shuddered. No, she was better off remembering. But something told her there was something else, something at the end of the dream. Something to do with Professor Snape? Touching her lips again, she shook her head, feeling as though she was throwing another presence out.

Sitting up in her bed, she froze. Had she just thrown someone else out of head?

With a small laugh, she shook her head again. It was almost impossible that Snape had been inside her mind at that moment. The chances of that happening were about as slim as…

…sharing a dream with him.

Once more, she shook her head. Glancing at the light peaking through her window, she realised that it was already morning. Her written Astronomy NEWT was today. She'd had her Defence Against the Dark Arts yesterday, and felt as though she had gone fairly well.

Searching for her wand and her clothes, Hermione shook her entire body. The weird feeling she'd had, the dream she'd had, they were all just caused by the stress she was under, it was a week and a half into NEWTs and she only had two left… maybe she was starting to crack though, like Ron and Harry had always told her that she would.

Yes that was it. She was stressed, that's all. But that couldn't explain why she felt as though she suddenly had a better understanding of Professor Snape. Or why her lips were still tingling…

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In the dungeons of the castle, Severus Snape was desperately scooping what little he could remember of the dream he had just had into his pensive, so that he could look at it later, after his mind had cleared a little. He had much to examine in what he could salvage from his mind. Much to examine.

One was what it was like to be kissing Hermione Granger…

Finishing the task, he lowered his head to the table. He realised that his brash movement in the dream would cause him big trouble. He almost hoped to the high sky that Miss Granger would forget what she had seen in his dream. Feeling guilty, she wondered if she would remember, and if she did, would she realise that he was behind her the whole time, seeing her move among the bodies like he had so many times, seeing her scream and run and cry. He had wanted her to see though, had guided her. It was the only way anyone could understand.

Sweeping his greasy hair from his eyes, he remembered what Hermione had told him about not using magic on his hair. Yet he still continued to. Sighing, he made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast, for the first time hoping that he would not see the bushy haired Gryffindor. If she had remembered, and if she had realised just what had happened, he just didn't think he was ready for the conversation that would be inevitable

His lips twitched as he wondered if he ever would be.

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_Well, that was a little weird, lol. I hope I've still got people reading this!_

_Hey… what's the smell? I can smell something citrusy… any idea what could be coming up? Let's keep following this little bunny and see where it takes up… I assure you, it'll be a lot…. Fluffier then this chapter ;-)_


	42. The Potions Exam

_Oh my, I can't get over the response I had from my last chapter, it was simply overwhelming, and so wonderful, thank you to everyone who took the time to review, it really blew me away! _

_Here's the latest chapter… I don't know if I'll be able to post tomorrow._

_Goodnight all!_

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**Chapter Forty Two**

The last exam for the seventh years was their potions practical, held on Friday morning, five days before they would leave Hogwarts for good. Hermione felt a lump come to her throat as she entered the exam, knowing it would most likely be her last for a very long time.

To everybody's surprised, Professor Snape was seated in the corner of the room, his legs crossed and his fingers steepled at his chin, surveying the students as they entered with his usual glittering eyes. Hermione felt an odd jolt in her stomach when she glanced over at the Professor. She had hardly seen him in the past two weeks, and not since Tuesday. Not even a glimpse of him in the Hall. For some odd reason, she had mixed feelings about this, and couldn't understand why.

As she stood her place behind her assigned cauldron, her eyes flicked once more to the Professor perched in the corner, and found him looking at her quite intently. Again, a funny jolt shot through her stomach, and she automatically raised the tips of her fingers to brush against her lips. She swallowed and her eyes flicked to his lips. For some reason she had a feeling, that once upon a time, she had explore them more closely then she should have.

Looking back up into his eyes, she found an odd expression there, as if he was trying to wok her out, but just couldn't. Something odd occurred to her as she noticed this expression. She realised that for some reason, she felt as though she could understand him a bit better – she knew a little bit more about why the dark circles under his eyes were more pronounced then they had been in the past seven years. But she couldn't figure out why.

She tore her eyes from the dark man in the corner, and gave all her attention to the examiner who was standing at the front of the room, about to give the instructions for the potions exam. She let all thoughts of Severus Snape slide to the back of her mind as she worked away at her Aging Potion with quick, precise movements.

Out the corner of her eyes, she saw Neville constantly flicking gazes to Professor Snape in the corner, as though the Professor would come and attack him at any given moment. However, the Potions Master sat still and silent for the entire exam, leaving Hermione feeling very grateful. Harry was also throwing looks at the corner, though they were dark and accusing. Hermione tried her hardest to ignore the man, to ignore feeling as though she knew something, but just couldn't remember it.

It hit her, just as she was picking up her rabbit hairs to add to the potion, just what she was missing. It came back to her, and her mind pushed her back to the dream she'd had not many nights ago. _Oh God_, she thought, seeing it all in front of her, instead of the potion. She could see it all, could remember it, could hear it, her screams echoing off the walls. Then it came to her…

…he had been there. He had been behind her, he had held her, he had told her that she needed to understand. He had told her that it was a dream, that the bodies weren't there. He had… kissed her. _"Do you understand?"_ he had whispered before kissing her, before holding her against him tight.

Her head shot up from the bubbling potion before her, snapped up to look at the man seated so calmly in the corner. But his eyes betrayed his calmness.

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He watched her throughout her exam, seeing her work so well with the potions, pleased with himself that he had been the one to lead her towards working like that. Oh, of course, she would have done it herself somewhere along the lines, but he had helped her, there was little doubt.

Her eyes when she had first entered the room had told her that she didn't remember the dream from a few nights ago. She did not have the look of someone who had been dragged through Hell and back, the way he knew he had the first time he had been subjected to that terrifying dream. Instead, her eyes only held the nervousness she felt about doing her exam. As if she needed to be nervous, Snape knew she'd pass, and pass with the top marks.

He watched her calmly, noticing how she refused to look at him. Was she working it out? He'd made a point of avoiding her since that morning, not wanting to answer her questions, if she'd had any, until after her exams were finished. He was almost relieved to see that she did not know.

Knowing that rabbit hairs were about to be added to her potion, he set his sights upon her again, and watched silently as she picked up the hairs. He saw quite clearly, though he suspected others wouldn't, as she stiffened, gazing in wide eyed horror into her cauldron as she surely remembered what had happened, the bodies she had seen.

He waited a few moments, and sure enough, her snapped up, her eyes met his, and he saw the look there, saw her put the last pieces of the puzzle together. His insides were shrieking at him as he tried to remain calm, begging her silently to not be angry at him for a his foolish action in their dream, their connection. He just hadn't been able to help it.

After a few moments, he realised that she would no longer be able to work in her exam while he was presence. He attempted to leave silently, sliding along the wall and out the door. Even though he did not look at her, he knew that Hermione was looking at him, she had noticed her exit. He could only hope that her exam had not been ruined by him.

Retreating to his private chambers, he slumped onto his couch, running his hands through his hair, feeling the stress of the past two weeks of examining even the most idiotic kids settling over him. The dream had done nothing to dampen that stress, and now he feared an angry student who might be bashing down his door at the very moment her exam finished, demanding an explanation for a kiss he had none for.

Except that he had wanted it.

As sick and perverse as he thought of himself these days, there was no way he could deny the growing attraction her felt for the Gryffindor witch. "Fucking brilliant time, Severus," he muttered to himself as he remembered this. It was her last days, her last classes, her last… everything at Hogwarts. He wondered if he would be her last kiss. No, surely the Weasley brat would get his paws on her.

A feeling coursed through him, a feeling he had felt many times as a wizard as young as she, but one he had not felt for years. He chose to ignore it. Surely Hermione, the Head Girl, would be smarter then that.

With a groan, he tipped his head back, and waited for the knocking to resound through his chambers. It was barely an hour before it came, signalling the arrival of the witch. Smoothing down his front again, he made his way to his office door.

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The moment the exam finished, Hermione rushed from the room, not waiting for Harry and Ron as she normally did. She knew that they'd guess where she was headed, but she couldn't care right now. With everything in her, she needed to know.

She hurried down the corridor, coming to a halt at the Professor's door. Here, she took a breath or two, before raising her hand to knock on the door. Yes, she needed to know what had happened, if he had known it.

The door opened after barely a moment and she guessed that he had been expecting her. His departure from the exam room had told her that something was up, and she had known that he had guessed that she knew just what had happened. There was no doubt in her mind that they had shared the dream, that they had both known what was happening. In a way, Hermione felt thankful that she had forgotten about the dream until now – she felt as though she was suffocating under what she had seen.

"Miss Granger." Professor Snape's was that of a troubled man, and she knew that she had caused that. She didn't regret it, not now. "Step in." He motioned for her to follow him, and she did so, allowing him to lead her into his private chambers. Before she had a chance to say anything, he summoned her a glass of pumpkin juice.

"I assume you know why I'm here, Professor," she said quietly, watching his face.

"Yes," he responded, holding her eyes in an equal gaze. "You remembered something. A dream you had."

"_We_ had," she corrected with a small smile. She watched him closely as he acknowledged that fact. At least he hadn't bothered to try and deny it, despite knowing that he couldn't have possibly done so.

"Yes, we had," he said, still holding her face with his eyes. "I assume you did not realise what had happened until just now."

"You knew the whole time, didn't you?" she whispered, once again forgetting that he was a Professor. "I didn't see you, but you always saw me."

He gave a small laugh. "Like a true Gryffindor, Miss Granger, you allowed yourself to be lead. You did not question, you did not look behind, you simply saw something and followed. You needn't be ashamed of that right now… but perhaps you have learned for the future?"

"If you knew where I was going, if you knew where I was going, why didn't you stop me?" she asked, heat raising in both her cheeks and her voice as hard as she tried to fight against it. "You told me to keep going, you encouraged me. I know it was your voice inside me head, telling me to walk on."

A look of sadness fell over his face. "You needed to understand, Hermione." He whispered, his eyes finally falling from hers, and to the rug that lay beneath their feet. "All that you say, all that you do… you didn't understand the numbers, the people. You were there when he fell, I have learned this much, and this year you have fought for a man who did nothing but cause pain and anger – even if he didn't mean it." His voice dropped to almost silence, and she strained to hear it. "Just like he didn't mean to show you that dream, to let you in. But once you were there…"

She couldn't help but feel a light of interest spark in her chest. He had showed her the dream. It wasn't by chance, he had done it. "How did you show me?" She asked quietly.

Professor Snape turned his head away sharply, looking at the fireplace where no fire burned. His fingers traced the outline of his thin lips, and Hermione felt it hard to concentrate on what he was saying for a moment, wanting to think about those lips, and just how they had kissed her. "I honestly do not Miss Granger – but how else could you have seen? It is _my_ dream, a dream I have experienced many times. I did not think it would be possible for me to show to anyone without using an external device. Perhaps… perhaps in a way, I invited you into my mind. Perhaps… you accepted, and you did not realise. There is a chance." He gave her a smile from behind his tracing fingers. "I've been meaning to research it."

"I have five days left at Hogwarts, sir," she informed him. "My exams are over."

"Meaning what?"

She took a breath. She knew this man was fiercely protective of his privacy – but over the lat few months, he had opened up to her in small ways – was it time to make another step? "Meaning, perhaps I could be of some assistance to your research. I am part of this."

"Quiet, Miss Granger, you are beginning to sound like Potter." She glared at him for this statement. "Always wanting to be involved in everything."

"I believe I already am involved in this, sir," she whispered, as his eyes captured hers once more and she found herself lost in the pools of black.

Silence fell over them for a moment before the Professor stood up. "Yes, Miss Granger, you may assist me with your research, however, not tonight. You have just completed your final exam, one I am sure you passed quite comfortably. You have celebrating to do with the other brats of your house, do you not?" He almost actually smiled at her after this remark. "If you still wish to research, please, I ask you to be here tomorrow morning after breakfast."

Accepting the unspoken dismissal, Hermione stood, straightening her skirt before making her way to the office door. He remained seated and as she reached the door, she heard him call her name softly, just once more. She turned to him.

"What I asked you… do you understand?" He asked, his black eyes giving her the feeling as though he was searching her soul.

"I understand what, I do not understand why," she answered honestly. "But I hope to." She paused, wondering if she had the courage to ask what she did. Before she could decide if she did or she didn't, the words came tumbling out. "Sir… what you did… do you regret?

"No…" came the softly reply. "Are you angered?"

She thought for a moment, studying his face, looking in his eyes and seeing him as a man – truthfully he was not her Professor now, she had completed her classes with him. After a quick search of herself, she came up with the answer she felt was right with her.

"No, I am not. Don't you be either."

She turned and left, too scared to see the expression on his face.

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_Kind of a poxy ending, I am well aware of that, lol. Researching together next!_

_This fic has not much longer to go, not much longer at all… probably three chapters. Hope you all enjoying the ending :-)_


	43. Research

_Sorry this chapter took a day longer then I had hoped, but it was hard for me to write, lol. Hope you like it anyway. It might be a little hard to update this week… though I'm not at school for the next week, I've got something on every night, and don't write to well during the day, which might explain some of the cheesiness in this chapter, lol!_

_Enjoy nonetheless (I love that word)_

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**Chapter Forty Three**

Saturday was a day which equalled celebrating for the Seventh years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They had finished their schooling at the school, were leaving in five days never to come back. They did not have to face any other exam, hand in any more assignments, complete any more homework. Most had applied for jobs and were content to wait for the NEWT results, letting them know if they had been accepted into their chosen career or not.

Hermione Granger was not one of these students, perhaps the only one. She had no made any applications for jobs; she had not been able to decide. Her friends told her she was being foolish – she was the smartest in the year and didn't know where she wanted to do. Perhaps that was the reason the day after exams finished, the day after everything was over, she found herself heading for the dungeons straight after breakfast, to do research with a Professor.

Or perhaps it was just that she desperately wanted to know just why she had experienced something not many did with this particular man.

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Standing at the door of the Potions Master's office, Hermione felt a slight amount of fear run through her body, causing her fist to tremble as she raised it do knock on the office door. After spending a night celebrating half-heartedly the end of exams, she had laid awake for hours, pondering what she had remembered. The dream.

What could it have meant - the fact that their minds had shared the dream? How could it have happened – he opening his mind to her and she accepting the invitation, neither of them realising? As she stood outside the door, waiting from him to answer the door, she was somewhat unsure if she truly wanted to know the answer to the question her mind had asked till the small hours of the morning.

But the door was flung open before she could change her mind and depart from the dungeons, and she was faced with her Professor standing above her. Once again he was not wearing his teacher's robes, only his pants and top, his hair hanging limp and damp around his face. Hermione managed to stop herself from pointing this out to, hoping that he'd forget about it and let it dry naturally.

"I see you came, Miss Granger," he said quietly, his lips set in a line. She willed herself not to pay attention to those lips. "Never going to give up the chance to learn, will you?"

"There is no reason to, when there is so much to learn," she responded in what she desperately was a calm voice. She must have said something right, given the tiny quirk of his lips and the raising of an eyebrow before not for the first time, he turned from her and strode into his private rooms.

She followed, listening to him. "I choose to, like you it would seem, study in here as opposed to my office, I doubt you would mind, seeing as you have spent more then enough time in these rooms already." She watched as he moved to the bookshelves. "I've already flipped through a few useless books; I am almost in doubt that there will be much worthwhile in my collection."

"Surely there must be something," she insisted, glancing around at the books which covered every spare inch of the room. Part of her wished that she had started spending a little time with him earlier in her school years, so that she might have had the chance to read more of these books.

"There may be, so we will begin here. I have asked Madam Pince if there is anything in the library regarding such a matter to Floo it to these rooms." As if picking up on her surprise, he turned to her, cocking an eyebrow up. "No, Miss Granger, I did not tell her just why I was looking for such books. The insufferable woman gave up long ago asking me for details as to what I research in _my_ time."

Hermione nodded silently, still feeling somewhat surprised that he was actually going to allow her assistance. Despite her having every reason as to why she should be allowed to, being rather involved in the situation, part of her had still been expected him to turn her down.

She watched as her Professor walked slowly around his sitting room, stopping to pull a book or two off the shelves. Finally, after a few minutes, he motioned for her to take a seat in one of the armchairs as he took up the other, placing the books on the table between them. He handed her one, entitled _Dreams Throughout History_ by Alexia Hoshack. Leaning back in the armchair, she opened the books and began to read.

For the next three hours, the two of them sat in a usually comfortable silence, both reading, now and then stopping to read something out that might have been of interest. By lunchtime however, when the Professor summoned lunch for them, they had hardly gotten anywhere, which was starting to frustrate both of them.

Over a plate of sandwiches, Hermione brought up the questions about the dream that she knew could not have been answered by any book. "How long have you been having those dreams, sir?"

He looked quite thoughtful for a moment, chewing his sandwich. She nearly giggled at the amusement of the entire situation. She was eating a plate of sandwiches of all things with the feared Potions master, who wasn't wearing his usual menacing robes, and the pair of them was researching something they had shared.

But she was brought back to reality as he answered her question. "Once again I'm afraid that I can't give you an honest answer other then I don't know, because I don't." He sighed, looking at the rug again. "I remember waking up after having some sort of dream, but couldn't remember exactly what had happened. When I did begin to remember the…" a tremor ran quite visibly down his spine. "I wish you hadn't seen it, it was too much for me to deal with, I can only imagine how you're coping," he said, with no accusation of weakness behind his voice.

"You said in the dream that I had to understand," she reminded him softly. "You said it yesterday."

He looked uncomfortable, taking another bite of his sandwich, taking his time in chewing it. "You were already there, how could I stop you from seeing it? And yes, I do believe that you had to understand. Just perhaps it might have occurred in a better situation. One might not learn so well when they are busy screaming their heads off in horror." His words were said with a smile that did not quite match the sadness in his eyes. "What else could I do, Miss Granger?"

"You followed me into the room," she pointed out. "You could have stopped me."

"I didn't know what was going on, I thought…" he seemed as though his throat had clogged and she watched in interest as his face flushed. "I thought perhaps that you were just there in the dream, I didn't realise that you were dreaming with me. By the time I realised, it was too late."

She almost giggled as she pictured Professor Snape dreaming about her in some way. But then she remembered the dream that had taunted her last night, and sobered instantly. Instead of giggling, she went forward with her questioning. "Why did we end up in here during the dream, sir? Does that often occur?"

He shook his head. "No, which was what lead me to realising that this was not the regular dream that I am forced to live with." He brought his face up to meet hers, his black eyes boring into her. "My dream usually ends as I reach… as I reach… never have I been transported back to my rooms in such dream. It was then that I realised that it was indeed _you_ in my dreams, not simply a… creation of my mind, for lack of better word, I suppose."

Hermione realised with surprise her Professor showed no hint of surprise that she might be in his dreams, and only that she _really _was there. Well, it wasn't as if he was any stranger to her dreams of late, she remembered, with a faint blush.

"What happened when I woke up, sir?" she asked politely.

The man seated across from her visibly paled, and his attention turned to the sandwich in front of him and only that. He spoke to the sandwich as well, when he chose to talk. "I woke up barely a moment later, it would seem. One moment you were there and I was…" his voice snagged for a moment, and she watched him gulp as he tried not to say _kissing you_. "One moment you were there, and then the next you were gone. You just vanished." He stumbled out, quickly putting the rest of his sandwich into his mouth as though to avoid having to say anything more.

"Sir…" she began quietly, before letting her voice trail off for a moment. His eyes looked straight into hers again, and she felt the need to look away, as though to protect her soul. She wanted to ask why he had kissed her in the dream, knowing full well that she would remember, but couldn't find the words, and in truth, didn't want to cause an awkward situation between them now. So she kept quiet, searching his eyes for the answer. Instead, she glanced at the empty plate of sandwiches, and suggested that they continue.

Half way through the afternoon, the fireplace in the corner, which until then had been burning at a very low level, for even in the dungeons the air was warming, turned green, and several books tumbled out onto the rug. Professor Snape stood and snatched them for the floor, looking through the titles silently. Before she could ask about them, he turned back to the fire, grabbed some Floo powder, and threw several of the books back to what she could only guess was the library.

"Old bat knew I already have those books, I am quite tired of her acting like a third year who won't listen to instructions," he snarled a the fireplace, even though she knew Madam Pince couldn't hear him.

It was then she found the courage to ask another question that had brewing in her mind. "Professor, could the fact that you are an accomplished Legilimens have anything to do with the sharing, you opening your mind to me?"

"No, Miss Granger, it could not. A Legilimens can pry into other people's minds, as you surely know, and are quite apt at keeping people out of theirs. If I had shared a dream of yours, I might have suspected it, but since you shared a dream of mine, and you are not a Legilimens, we can discount that theory." He finished with a small sneer, which infuriated her, but she tried so hard not to show it. She looked down at her book, feeling her cheeks flush.

It was ten o'clock before either of them realised the time again, having managed to skip dinner once again without meaning to. Hermione eyes were starting to itch, and she stifled a yawn.

"Stay a moment longer, Miss Granger, I'll summon some food for us." Professor Snape said quietly, stretching his hand out for the book that was lying closed in her lap.

"The House Elves won't mind you asking for two meals so late in the evening?" She asked, feeling a slight amount of disbelief.

His lips gave a small quirk which might have been an amused smile. "They have become quite accustomed to me requesting meals at any hour of the day or night." He informed her, but offered not explanation beyond that. So she sat back and watched as he thrust more glittering powered into the fireplace, and proceeded to ask the House Elves of the Kitchens for two servings of the evening meal. Within a moment, he held them in his hands, bringing them back over to the armchairs. "Eat, Miss Granger," he commanded softly. "I know you've not done much of that lately."

She turned her blushing face down to look at the plate sitting on the coffee table in front of her. "I've been busy studying, sir."

"Well, now that you are not studying, you've no excuse, and if I you did, I would accept none." He picked up his own knife and fork.

Chewing carefully, she informed him that it was a Hogsmeade day tomorrow, to celebrate the end of exams. "Perhaps I could have a look in the book store in the village for something on this, we've not gotten very far today." Her eyes lingered of the stacked books, and the small, discarding scribblings they had made during their reading.

A look of disgust crossed his face. "I had plans to go to the village tomorrow, but if it is going to be infested by students celebrating and no longer regarding me with any kind of respect, then I believe I shall stay here." His eyes sought hers though. "But perhaps, yes, you could have a look around for something that may be of assistance… if you little _friends_ will allow you to."

With horror, she realised what she would be in for once she returned to the Common Room that evening – surely Harry and Ron would be awake and waiting for her. She'd not left the dungeons all day, and had only seen the pair briefly at breakfast, not bothering to tell them where she was going. She knew exactly what they'd say if she told them… _"It's the end of exams and instead of spending time with us, you're down there with the greasy bat?" _they'd both probably say.

Trying not to grimace at the thought, she nodded to the Professor, but as soon as she'd finished her meal, she set the plate down and reached for one of the few books they'd not read yet. Maybe if she stayed longer, by the time she returned to the Common Room, they'd have both gone to bed. She knew it was terrible that she was avoiding them, but she was tired of their childish reactions. If she wanted to spend time with Professor Snape, that was her choice.

It was with a slight shock that she remembered that she didn't only want to study about this dream down here; she wanted to spend time with the man himself. Over the top of his book, sure that he was not paying her any attention, she surveyed him. He was an older man, obviously, with black eyes that seemed as deep as well, and an intellect to fill two or three as well. She almost laughed out loud when she realised that she'd not been paying any attention to his hair today – nor had he, it seemed, for it was not in its usual greasy state. He had not used magic to dry it, and it sat around his face in a clean, puffy sort of way. It was far from perfect, but an improvement none the less.

Remembering all the hours she'd spent in his chambers this year, she couldn't fight back the small smile that settled over her face. It'd been nice, she decided, spending the time with him – he might not have been the most entertaining company, but she knew that after Harry and Ron, entertainment was not what she needed. Instead, he had been someone to sound tiny ideas off – even if she was unwilling to tell him everything about what she was studying.

In her mind's eye, she saw him as she'd seem him in their dream again. He had been so full of sorrow, just like that night on the Quidditch Pitch, when she'd admitted that she worried about him, when he admitted all that he felt about the war. But in the dream, he'd been sorry for her, for what she'd seen. She remembered him holding her tightly against him, rocking her gently. She remembered, once again, him kissing her.

"What is it, dare I ask, that you find so fascinating about me at this moment, Miss Granger?" His voice cut through her memories of the desperate kiss he'd given her, of his lips pressing against hers. She cleared her head to see him looking at her with the utmost curiosity.

"I… I was just thinking about the dream, sir." She admitted in a whisper. "Why do you think that you shared it with me?"

She noticed his nostrils flared slightly as he looked away. "That, is yet another question, I do not know the answer for, Miss Granger. But I do intend to find out. Perhaps it is just because of all the people in this godforsaken castle – you are the one whom I seem to… connect with." They both blushed at his words. "But really Miss Granger, there is a bigger question on your mind, and although I know what it is, I wish you to ask it." An eyebrow rose upon his forehead.

Hermione blushed furiously. But she opened her mouth to speak anyway. "Sir… in the dream, before I woke up… why did you kiss me?"

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_Find out next chapter, lol. I need time to decide for myself why he did, LOL! Along also with the trip to Hogsmeade._

_Hopefully next chapter will be up tonight, but for now, who's up for lasanga?_


	44. A Small Discovery

_Sincere apologies for taking an extra day with this – life's a little frantic at the moment with my mum away – and aren't I meant to be on holidays! –Sigh--_

_Enjoy this chapter for now!_

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**Chapter Thirty-Four**

Ron and Harry reacted exactly how Hermione had said they would, accusing her of wanting to spend all her time with the Vampire of the Dungeons as they walked towards Hogsmeade the following day.

Hermione had not returned to the Gryffindor Common Rom until the morning before breakfast to shower and change clothes. She hadn't intended to spend the entire night in Professor Snape's quarters, let alone in his bed. Oh, nothing had happened, despite sharing his bed once again and talking well into the night. He'd never given her the answer to her question, only flushed, mumbled something about being foolish and quickly turning the conversation towards a subject that had lead them well into the evening. She had desperately wanted to tell him that it wasn't foolish, but she'd never gotten the chance. It was sometime around two in the morning when she'd woken to find Snape once again carrying her towards his bed.

That morning she'd woken, horribly embarrassed by the fact that despite her fact that she was sleeping under the covers and he atop of the bed, she had managed to throw her arm over his side and down his front, her hand pressed against his chest as thought making an attempt to pull him closer. She hoped that he hadn't awaken at any stage to notice that, despite his hand resting atop of her, his fingers entwined with hers.

But now, as she walked towards the tiny wizard village near Hogwarts castle, she was forced to endure the taunts of her two best friends. Only Ginny remained quiet. "I'm surprised you're not still up at school, Hermione," Harry said in a scandalised tone.

"You know, you're acting as though you don't even want me around," Hermione snapped. "I could have stayed and studied with Professor Snape, but-"

"Professor Snape!" Ron cut her off. "You're not calling him Severus yet? Or better yet, Sevvie?"

She spun around and gave her two best friends her best glare. "Really mature, Ron." She snapped again. "I'm going to the bookstore. See you later." With that, she turned and strode towards the cramped, dusty shop.

A small though in the back of her head told her that all she'd need now was a billowing black cloak.

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Still inside the castle paced the man whom wore the exact billowing cloak Hermione was thinking of. Not that he know that. Snape was pacing his rooms, the halls, the empty classrooms and the school library, desperate to trick his mind into thinking about anything but that blasted dream and Hermione. For she'd been spending a lot of time on his mind lately.

Though he wouldn't admit it to her, he had woken early that morning and had felt Hermione's hand splayed across his chest, in her sleep. It had been against his better judgement that he'd allowed himself to share a bed with her again, despite her adamant insistence. But when he'd woken to find her making an innocent, unconscious attempt to hold him close, he couldn't help bit allow himself a rare moment of indulgence, laying his hand over hers and lacing their fingers together before drifting back to sleep for a few hours.

He didn't know if she had noticed at any stage, or if she'd noticed, but she'd removed her hand from his chest by the time he woke, and she was still asleep. He hadn't wanted to wake her, she looked so calm sleeping like that. But duty called.

Now she was in the village with those idiots, and he pacing the corridors like a mad fool, wanting to hex anybody who got in his way, and the knowledge that he couldn't was driving him mad. _Couldn't what_ asked a voice in his head.

Finally, he gave in without realising it. He had already left the castle grounds and was on the outskirts of Hogsmeadea before he began cursing himself silently for leaving the safety of the castle. Here in Hogsmeade, students were milling around, enjoying the sunny weather. Here, he ran the risk of running into Potter of Weasley, or worse yet, Miss Granger. Yet, he didn't turn back.

He knew he should have answered her question the evening before, since he had been the one telling her to ask it. But he hadn't expected her to do so. So instead he'd acted like a foolish third year talking to his first crush. He'd kicked himself mentally for being so pathetic. Yet the evening had been pleasent enough, talking about anything they could think of. She was certainly well-read, and after years of teaching dunderhead students, Snape was certainly appreciative. Even if she did fall asleep in the middle of him telling her about a theory on alternative uses for powdered lion spine. For the first time in his whole sixteen years of teaching, he didn't mind a student falling asleep while he was talking. Not that she was actually his student anymore.

Avoiding looking at students as much as he could, he strode past The Three Broomsticks, past all the laughing, drinking students who were wandering around the village in the Muggle shorts and t-shirts. _The weather isn't _that_ warm _he thought with disgust when he saw a sixth year wearing shorts that were barely there. He hoped to the high sky that he would see Hermione wearing anything like that. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to hold back.

He was pleasantly surprised to see that the Bookstore, his favourite place in Hogsmeade aside from The Hogs Head, was reasonably empty, quite devoid of loud students. Stepping inside, he waited for his eyes to adjust to the dimness inside the small shop compared to the bright sunshine that adorned the outside world. He took pleasure in the smell of old books and paper and leather, a smell that reminded him there was much to learn in the world. However, such a smell would never beat that of a well brewed potion. He didn't care what kind of potion it was, along as it was brewed correctly, it was beautiful to him.

Though he knew he should be doing some more research on the dream, he first headed for the potions book. Surely Miss Granger had already been by that morning to already get any books she thought would be necessary.

However, his assumption was quite wrong, as there in the back of the shop, sitting on the wooden floor and surrounded by tottering piles of books sat Hermione Granger. To his delight, she was not waring teeny shorts, but a part of blue pants that appeared to be much too short and a pale coloured sleeveless shirt. Her hair was somewhat haphazardly tucked away from her face, though strands were falling loose. He had only noticed her sitting there when she'd reached up to tuck a stray strand behind her ear. Snape had to admit that she was… quite a sight.

He approached with a silence he had long ago perfected, although he imagines a raging herd of hippogriffs could had stampeded the store and she might have only just noticed. _Foolish girl_, he thought. He had also perfected the art of being aware of his surroundings at all times, after being caught unawares by the infamous school yard bullies in his schooling years, and the years of teaching foolish imbeciles for the past sixteen years.

Standing over her, he smirked as she still hadn't looked up. "I see I was correct in saying that you take _every_ opportunity to learn, Miss Granger," he drawled softly.

His words were greeted with a brief look up before she responded with, "Well, I could just sit around all day like _some people_ I know, but I believe that time is better spent learning. Who knows when such knowledge may come in handy, sir."

Somewhat surprised by her calm reaction, Snape made an attempt to tell himself that he was highly upset by her lack response, but he couldn't seem to do it.

"I quite agree with you, Miss Granger," he said. "But your tone tells me that your friends do not."

Her hand, which he had once upon a time found annoying and frustrating, waved dismissively in the air in front of him. "What does it matter?" she asked, but he noticed the way her voice cracked slightly.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the pair of them and Snape noticed that Hermione appeared to have stopped reading. In an effort to break the tension, he reached down and scooped up one of the many books that surrounded the witch on the floor. "Do you intend on buying all these?" He asked in a light tone.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I was just flicking through them. I'm just hoping to find something more…" he voice trailed off, and he watched as her cheeks reddened. She suddenly looked up and met his eyes square one. "I found something, sir."

With a flick of his wand, Snape sent all the books surrounding her back to all their original places, but she clung to one. "I want to buy this one, sir."

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, hurry Miss Granger," he drawled. "And then perhaps we could take a walk and you could tell me what you might have found." Crossing his arms, he waited for her to buy her book before leading her away from the crowded village centre.

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With robes and hair as black as night, a face as pale as the moon, and eyes as deep as craters, Severus Snape was midnight in the bright sunshine, Hermione mused. She allowed the man to lead her away, feeling a sense of surreal settling over her.

"What did you find out?" he finally asked quietly as they walked slowly around the edge of the village.

As she was still making an attempt to deal with the idea of taking a day time stroll around the village with a Professor she had once spent a moment entertaining the idea that he might have been a vampire, took a moment to answer. "This book had some interesting ideas," she said, handing over _Connecting Witches and Wizards Throughout the Ages _by William Hope. "There an entire section on dream sharing.

He didn't take the book, only gave her a sideways glance as they walked down a dusty path. "Over the past seven years, Miss Granger, I have endured you reciting entire text books in my class. Surely you can uphold that wholly annoying tradition." Hermione noticed his voice was not quite filled with as much venom as it usually did when he referred to her know-it-all habit.

Taking a breath, she began to explain. "Well, as we already discovered, sharing dreams are incredibly rare. They normally occur…" she swallowed. Was she ready to admit what she had read, both to herself and him? "They normally occur between two people who are… searching"

"Searching for what?" he asked in a soft voice.

Her voice caught. "It could be for a number of things, but clearly something they share. Perhaps something one has – that's what happened with us, I assume – or something they both want. Well, at least in the cases I've read so far."

"Is that the only way?" It felt rather odd for Hermione to lecturing her Professor.

"Well… no." She admitted. "They can also occur due to a strong connection between the two people. Never strictly a witch and a wizard, but perhaps two witches, or two wizards. But usually two that, yes, have a strong connection already forged. Lovers, perhaps, or the very best of friends. Like Professor McGonagall and…" her voice trailed off.

"What were you searching for, Miss Granger, that allowed you into my dreams?" Professor Snape asked quietly, stopping her.

She averted her eyes, studying the ground beneath her feet. "I-I don't know, sir." She answered honestly. "I suppose I've been wondering more and more about you and what you've seen, after what you told me on Quidditch Pitch. The fact that you didn't know, and was being reminded. I didn't know that it would happen…" Silence fell over them again before she picked up the conversation again. "It suggested that the dreams might occur when the two are most vulnerable. For example, I was completely set on my NEWTs, exhausting myself."

He gave her a small smile. "And I had my own reasons for being such a… vulnerable mind. These days, it feels nice to remember that I don't always have to be so shut off from the world."

"You just choose to be instead." The words fell from Hermione's mouth before she thought about them, and when she realised what she'd said, she brought her hand up to her mouth and stared in horror at her Professor, waiting for her punishment. But it never came.

"You can hardly blame me, Miss Granger," he said in a quiet voice. "The world is hardly opening up to me. Do you believe that just because the Order announced me innocent that everyone believes them? I am still a hated man, and not just by students."

She lowered her eyes back down the ground. "I don't hate you, Professor," she whispered.

"I must admit to being surprised by that," he said softly. "Especially after that dream." She raised her eyes to his, and found them searching her as though looking for the anger towards him that she might have disguised. In truth, she had no anger for him, even if he expected it, especially after he had kissed her.

"I was not angry with you, Professor." She said quietly, looking directly in his eyes. "Surprised by what you may have done, but not angry, more scared by everything else."

"Surprised?"

She nodded. "It was kind of a shock…" she admitted, biting her bottom lip. "But, well, a surprise that didn't bother me." She didn't know why she was saying this, but then again, Professor Snape didn't seem to be acting like Professor Snape, leading her down a dusty track and asking her questions. But on top of that, this was Professor Snape, who if following what William Hope had summarised in the quick paragraph she'd read in his book, she shared a strong connection with already, if they'd shared a dream.

"It didn't bother you?" Professor Snape asked slowly.

She shook her head. "No. I was simply curious to know how it happened." It was then that she realised she'd grown to be almost as tall as him. This made her feel that little bit more equal to the man before her.

"We were both vulnerable, Hermione," he whispered, still searching her face for something. Silence fell again, and she tried to work up the courage to ask the question that was brewing in her mind. Instead, she looked down at her watch.

"Oh, we have to get back to school, Professor!" She exclaimed the mentally kicked herself. What a goody-two-shoes she sounded like. _Ron would be gloating_, she thought bitterly.

"Yes…" he whispered, and she realised he was still looking at her quite intently. She wondered briefly if he was going to kiss her again. She realised that she wanted him to.

A moment later, they were still looking at each other, and Hermione couldn't stand it any longer. She stepped up to him, stood on tip toes and reached up with her lips, pressing them against his in a chaste kiss, but enough to get a taste of the dark man. "Oh!" She let a breath when she set herself back fully on the ground below her. It was an effort not to lick her lips.

"Oh, indeed," her Professor said in a neutral voice. They both looked at each other in shock, before he turned back to the direction of the castle. "Perhaps we should both Apperate a little closer to the school, or else you'll be late." He took a step away from her. "Perhaps you could come and see me tomorrow, and tell me more about what you found in that book of yours." Without a word more, only a slight _pop_, he was gone.

Hermione stood rooted the spot. _I just kissed Professor Snape!_ Was all she could think, as she raced towards the school, too confused to try Apperating. And worse yet, she thought, was the fact that she had enjoyed it.

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_Bit of a stupid ending, lol. Hopefully I'll make up for it next chapter, and who knows when that'll be posted. Hope you enjoy this one for one._

_Tonight I'm making 3 cheeses and onion pasta bake for dinner, who wants some? _


	45. Closing In

_I hoped everyone enjoyed the pasta bake that I offered last chapter, lol. Enjoy this chapter as well!_

_Again, a warning that this chapter is been written on a computer that has no spell check, but since I've been rather lazy with my chapters lately, I thought I'd better post this one up anyway! _

_This is a short chapter, am pretty tired and all that jazz... and my plot bunny is hopping all over the computer._

_**Oh, and a big thanks to everyone who has ever reviewed my story, I made 1,000 reviews, which is like... wow, considering this is my first fic! I couldn't believe it! Thank you all soooooooooooo much, I love you all!**_

_An extra big thanks to Lion and Bear (also known as Spot and Wick) for their unconditional support, I love you both, you're so awesome!_

_Hope you all like it :-)_

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**Chapter Forty-Five**

Not for the first time, Snape found himself seated in his rooms that evening nursing a glass of firewhiskey. His day had not gone to plan. He hadn't had any intention to head down into the village, let alone speak to Miss Granger, let alone _allow her to kiss him_. What irritated him beyond belief, and pushed him into this drinking was the fact that he had thorougherly enjoyed it, despite it being a fast, quick kiss. The feel of the soft lips upon his were enough to make him want to lose control.

Instead, he had fled from her like a frightened rabbit. And now, sprawled in his armchair in a very unsightly fashion, he was regretting. And regret was something he did not enjoy feeling. But it was either that, or guilt about what he could fell arising as he thought of the way she had felt kissing him. If only she'd given him time to kiss her back...

_No, thoughts like that won't do_, he thought, reminding himself that he had invited the young witch down into his chambers the following day.

In his head, he turned over what she had told him about what she had read in that book. Part of him wished that he had taken that book from her, and borrowed it over night. If she was able to gleam that much information from the little that she seemed to have read, what else might have been hidden within the pages of such a book. _"They normally occur between two people who are… searching."_ she had said. _"They can also occur due to a strong connection between the two people." _Snape wasn't too sure what to think of that piece of information. While he could now secretly admit that he had found himself haboring a liking for the Gryffindor chit, he wasn't sure about sharing a _strong connection _with the younger girl.

Holding the glass up to his lips, he allowed some of the burning liquid to slide down his throat, burning as it went. Clearly he wasn't drunk enough if he could still feel the burning of the drink. He wasn't sure if he was willing to allow himself to get that drunk, not tonight. Who knows what he'd do if he lost all control, like that other night. A shudder ran through his body, and he wished that he could still remember what had happened that night. He had been out of control, touching her, whispering in her ear. Though he'd not realised it at the time, he'd seen the look in her eyes when she'd told him about that. He had had an effect on her.

The knowledge that she was no longer his student slipped into his mind. She was eighteen, she was smart, she had kissed him...

He shook his head. This wasn't right, he shouldn't be behaving like this. Even if it was only his brain that believed it, for his body was certainly telling him otherwise. _All this, and only after a peck_, he thought with a groan. He hoped with desperation that he'd be able to hold on. Afterall, it was only two days left.

Two days and she'd be gone. The burning sensation in his throat was definately due to the liquor he was consuming, right?

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After an evening of reading ideas of what she could do after leaving Hogwarts, and avoiding a certain topic with the other students in the common room, Hermione closed herself into her bedroom for what would be almost the last time. Tears prickled the back of her eyes. She wasn't ready to move beyond been given homework, beyond constantly in touch with her best friends, having people all around her. It helped her feel less like the loner she had felt in the first eleven years of her life.

And now it was coming to an end, quicker then she had ever thought it was.

Willing herself not to let the tears that were welling in her eyes to spill over, she thought it was time to begin the task of packing up the room, removing her personal things from the drawers and taking her photos from the walls. Tomorrow was her last day of doing nothing in the castle. Tuesday would bring the Graduation Ceremony, the ball, the dancing, the dresses, the fun, the goodbyes. Another night, and Wednesday morning she would leave Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as a student forever. Part of her was entertaining the idea of returning one day as a Professor, to pass on the knowledge that she had gained. But not yet, she knew she still had much to learn before she could answer questions that any insistent questions that students might have for her. And what would she teach?

In her mind, she imagined returning to Hogwarts as a Professor in five years. Who would still be here? Professor McGonagall? Professor Hayrung? Professor Sprout? What teacher would step aside to allow her to teach, what opportunity would come up? What if Professor Snape was still there...?

Something inside her skipped as she thought of the dark Professor who would either be pacing the corridors in his usual menancing fashion or sitting in the private rooms that Hermione had come to enjoy spending time in. She tried to tell herself that it wasn't her stomach, or worse yet, her heart that was jumping at the thought of the man. In her mind's eye, she saw him standing before her, as he had hardly hours before the in daylight during her Hogsmeade visit. She recalled the way he had searched her face, and before she could stop herself, she recalled his lips.

It was true that she had been foolish in pressing hers against his in such a fashion, but she had been unable to help herself when the tension had built between them. Was he angry at her? she wondered with desperation. She had seen shock flit through his eyes before he had turned away from her, telling her that she needed to hurry. He had also told her that she should go and visit him the following day, to continue telling him about the book she had found.

She had spent the time in Common Room reading the book's section on sharing dreams. What she had read her had made her blood run hot and cold, thrilled her and scared her. The connection that the book had suggested was something deeper then the affection she had once thought she might have about the Potions Master. For she knew she certainly had held some sort of liking - spending time with the man had helped her realise that he was not just the sarcastic bastard the students of the school witnessed him as. He had been kind to her during the time she had spent with her. She had realised just how much she enjoyed the dinners they had shared together, and her head spun when she remembered the day she had fed him lunch, the way his name had sounded as she had encouraged to eat.

Something that might have been terror flew through her as she realised that what the book was suggesting mightn't have been as far fetched as she had originally thought. At least, not on her side. She made a note to herself to try and find out about how far fetched it was for the Professor, the next day.

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The air in the Great Hall was an air of excitement, Snape noticed with a sour face as he sat down to breakfast the following morning. The entire school was in celebration as all exams were over, and they would be leaving on Wednesday, one entire year never to return... so Snape hoped. Unconciously, his eyes roamed the Gryffindor table, where they fell on the young witch he was expecting a visit from after breakfast.

Hermione looked somewhat pale and withdrawn, seated at the table, one elbow holding her head up and she ate what looked as though it might be porridge. The two twits she often chose to spend time where seated on either side of her, talking animately and not paying attention to the witch. Under the table, Snape's hands were balled into fists. Couldn't the stupid little shits see what was happening with the girl who sat next to them? Clearly not, allowing their Gryffindor arrogance to take over and not care about the people who were around them, people who had always been there.

With a sneer, he remembered all the times he had helped the ungrateful brat, only to be repaid by the shit questionin him at every turn, insulting him, publically announcing his hatred. Allowing his eyes to fall back upon Miss Granger, he was once again glad for her being much more mature that her two clingons. He wondered time and time again how she managed to deal with their stupidity day after day. He was impressed with her patience, he had been ready to throw the two fools long ago.

Quite suddenly, a pair of brown eyes met his, as the subject of his scrutiny looked straight up and into his eyes. A wealth of knowledge passed between them, and Snape knew what was going within her head without having to pry. Miss Granger was frightened and worried. Snape wished to all Hell that she wasn't frightened by him. Unbelievably, seeing the worry in her eyes made Snape wish to rise, walk the length of the Hall, take the Gryffindor in his arms and worse yet, kiss away her fear.. That want shot through him, and before he could react to her, he rose and strode from the Hall, not daring to glance her way again.

Shutting himself in his chambers, he felt shame as his desire. His night had been filled by dreams he would never speak about in his life, dreams that he was sure he could be ashamed of. And now, he had seen her sitting there, looking so down and he had wanted nothing more than to see comfort her. And Snape did not comfort witches, even though he had on many occasions before this one.

Making an attempt to clamp down on his desire, he strode through his chambers to his bathroom. He was determined not to let anything happen with the witch today. After the night he had, he felt that if he allowed even a brushing of their hands, while they talked of doing something as intimate as sharing a dream, he might just lose control. And as she was still here for another 48 hours, he could not afford that.

Not yet.

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_Short, but meh... tired, lol. Will hopefully get the next chapter done on Saturday. I had planned the content of chapter 46 to be in this chapter, but the silly little plot bunny wished to shove this in, and this is the result... hope it's acceptable!  
_

_**Here's some pizza and chocolate cake to celebrate my making 1,000 reviews! Thanks again all!**_

_I've got three more chapters planned for this story, so hopefully all will go according to plan and it'll be allllllll good!**  
**_


	46. An Old Wound

_Hello! A day late, yet again, I'm hopeless and I know it! Lol. Third last chapter, kinda scary :-)_

_Hope you all enjoy this one, and the only thing I have to say in defence for one part is that: who knows what the Slytherin's do in the Common Room when no other house is looking, and who knows what lengths they'll go to get what the want… even taking certain lessons!_

_Enjoy!_

_Edit: I forgot to say what happened to the... stuff..._

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**Chapter Forty-Six**

Stepping aside to let the younger witch enter his chambers, Snape noticed that she was chewing on her bottom lip and playing with the ends of her hair - signs that he learned seven years ago meant that she was nervous. In her hands, she clutched the book he hoped held the answers to what ever was going on between their minds. Part of him wasn't sure if he wanted to know, as he looked upon the expression on her face. Clearly she had already read the book. What did it say?

"You did not sleep, Miss Granger?" he asked as they entered his sitting room, gesturing to the dark circles that lay beneath her eyes that he had noticed an hour before at breakfast.

She shook her head slowly. "No, I did not." Without waiting, she took a seat on his leather couch, sitting the book in her lap and covering it tightly with her hands. "I'm a little scared, sir."

His eyes widened at her admission. "Scared, Miss Granger? Whatever have you got to be scared of?" Had he intended to sound so soft, his voice not filled with the usual contempt he saved for snivelling students in the corridors, students were homesick, hadn't done their homework, had been bullied, or better yet, had been scared by him? He did not know, but there none, on a gentleness he could hardly remember he had. He prayed that her fear, for once, wasn't of him.

"It's all over in less then two days, sir," she whispered, bowing her head, trying to stop him from seeing the tears that had already formed, that he had already noticed. "I'm leaving Hogwarts, sir, and I've still no idea what to do." As he watched, a hand rose to her face, clearly making an attempt to dash away tears. "I always dreamed that I'd get to this point, and know exactly what I wanted to do, where I wanted to, when I could do it. And now it's here..."

"You do not know." He stated for her quite simply. She nodded meekly, still keeping her eyes on the book, her long bushy hair falling over to take all chances he might have had of seeing her face. Not that he wanted to. He hated dealing with whimpering women, and their petty problems. He tried to tell himself that it was the same for this woman. He tried to tell himself that all he really wanted to do was telling her to grow up, to leave. Yet, some part of him wanted to walk to the couch, raise a hand to brush aside her hair, and wipe away her tears.

Neither of those two parts of him won, and he stayed standing by the fireplace, unsure what to do.

"No, I don't." She shook her head. To his surprise, her face rose, and so did her hands, pushing aside her brunette locks, allowing him to see her tear stained face. "You'd think it would be so easy."

Before he could stop himself, he moved to the couch, and extended a finger, pressing it below her chin and encouraging her to look in him the eyes. He swallowed, seeing her red eyes. "No one thinks it's easy, and those who do are fools. This is important, Hermione, and too many made up their minds in year five, choosing subjects they thought were lead them to where the want to go, only to find at the end of their seventh year that they cannot go there, that they are trapped in their decision, a decision they no longer want to follow." He held her eyes.

"I just wish I could make a choice." She gave him a smile. "I'm the only one who hasn't applied for a job, everyone thought I'd be the first. But now, here I am, the last of my year with no idea. Everyone else is only thinking of what they'll be wearing to the Ball tomorrow."

Ah, the Graduation Ball. Hogwarts had not had an official Ball for the occasion for many years, but Minerva had decided that it was time to begin holding them again. _"We need to celebrate more"_ she had said when she had become Headmistress of Hogwarts at the fall of the Dark Lord. Snape had respected her decision, but had held no enthusiasm - and he did not either at the moment.

"Some people are shallow, Miss Granger." He remarked, removing his hand from her chin and moving back to take a seat in the armchair opposite her. Silence fell over them, and he waited for her to bring up the book which still sat in her lap.

"Will you be attending the Ball, sir?" she asked instead, shocking him.

He gave her a wry smile. "Yes, Minerva has had in drilled into her head that all staff should attend the Ball - you know that the rest of the school is in fact leaving tomorrow, do you not? Allowing all to make their appearance with _no excuses_." He made an attempt to pull of Minerva's voice, which must have worked, given the short, surprised laugh that burst forth. "So I will be there to watch you dance, drink, laugh and say goodbye to this school."

"I'm sure we will all be sorely missed by the feared Potions Professor," she muttered, and Snape was almost certain that he was not meant to have heard that.

"Some more then others, Miss Granger," he said in a quiet, serious voice, leaning forward and linking his hands together under his chin, resting his elbows on his knees. He saw the look of shock that flitted across her face at his words, and knew that she had picked up on the double meaning.

_He would miss her_. Not that he'd ever actually tell her that.

Silence fell over them again, before she spoke. "Do you dance, sir?"

He let out a short, surprised laugh. "Have you ever seen me dance, Miss Granger?" he asked in an amused tone.

"No, sir."

"Then there is your answer."

She shook her head, clearly unsatisfied. "Just because _I've_ never seen you dance, sir, does not mean that you don't." She stated, her still slightly red rimmed eyes holding his in a stern look.

Snape was highly amused by her answer. "You've got yourself a point, I may grant you that, Miss Granger," he said in a quiet voice. "Perhaps I did dance, once." The eyebrow that rose on her forehead, and the inquisitive look that formed in her eyes was more then enough warning for him to know that questions that would come barrelling out of her mouth without actually using any spell to pry. And so he took the initiative to answer them before they were asked. "I danced at my Graduation Ball. It was the second last one this school ever held, before this one now. The people whom I might have once referred to as my companions at this school taught me to dance for the Ball."

"Once referred to?" Miss Granger interrupted.

"Yes, Miss Granger, no longer. But that is not the point, and do not interrupt, unless you do not wish to know."

"I'm surprised you're telling me, sir." Came the quiet reply.

"Interrupt me again, and I may not," he gave her what he hoped was a meaningful look before continuing on with the story.

He continued on with the story, not even entirely sure as to why he was telling her. Something about her made him want to explain his reasoning for everything, which was quite a frightening sensation for him. "We Slytherins saw the Graduation Ball as the opportunity to once again prove ourselves better then the rest of the school." He smirked at the memory of Morghanna Lissbeth guiding him around the Common Room. "You needn't know who I attended with, either," he said quickly when he noticed the expression of interest on her face. When she pouted, he almost had to look away. "Just know that she thought I was a good dancer. I certainly did not step on her toes." Miss Granger apparently couldn't hide the grin that appeared on her face. Snape decided that embarrassing himself with this story was worth it, just to see that grin.

"So, what happened?" she asked.

"Interrupting, Miss Granger?" He smirked as she fell silent. "I thought now. If you must know, I went to the Ball, and I dance. I danced perhaps three days before two assholes put me in my place." He growled out the last few words, and watched as realisation dawned on her face.

"No…" she whispered.

He smirked at her. "Yes, Miss Granger. As your mind has already realised, I fell victim once again to cruelty of James Potter and Sirius Black." Anger bubbled in his blood as he recalled the incident. Recalled the taunting, the sneers, the laughter. He struggled to stay focused on the witch in front of him.

"What did they do to you?" came her quiet question.

With a flutter of his hand, he made an attempt to look calm. "The usual. Called me a greasy git, told my date that she'd have to cast a thousand cleaning spells after touching me, and tripped me up in front of the entire year on the dance floor.

He watched as her eyes widened. "If front of teachers?" she asked, a hand at her mouth. Snape made himself look away from that hand and those lips.

"Yes, Miss Granger," he muttered, looking at the bookshelves that lined the room. "Everyone always turned a blind eye when it came to bloody Potter, because he was 'such a promising Quidditch star'!" He snarled. "Once again, he robbed me of what little pride I had."

Much to his surprise, she suddenly had a very thoughtful look upon her face. Before he could asked what was going on in that calculating mind of hers, she enquired, "Was that all they said?"

He then realised it had been a very long time since he'd bothered to correct her when she forgot to address him properly. "Yes, Miss Granger, in more words, though."

A somewhat pleased grin broke out on her face. "Then they never said that you were a bad dancer. So in a way, you did show them."

It was a few seconds before he realised he was starting open mouthed and shocked at the witch before him. Not a face he presented to anyone – especially not her. "Well, perhaps," he said gruffly, know in his mind that the intelligence of the witch had once again gotten the best of him. "But that doesn't change what they did, or the consequences."

"You should know better then anyone that the past does not matter." Miss Granger said softly, causing him to meet her eyes again.

"Well, it does not change the fact that unlike many of my… foolish colleagues, I will not be dancing at tomorrow's Ball." He turned away, unwilling to see the look in her eyes as he said, "Like father, like son."

She was quiet for a moment as the words sunk in and he realised that he still hadn't put back _Curses of Being a Wizard_ in its place. Then she spoke. "Harry would never say something like that about someone without being provoked."

Feeling anger rise within him again, he looked straight in her brown eyes. "Dare you forget that I still have ears, Miss Granger?" he demanded in a low, harsh voice. He saw her flinch slightly at his words. "Dare you think that I do not hear what you and your friends say about me? The same words that foul boy said. And without provoking, you say? I did not realise that my teaching style, me preparing you all for a world where nothing is handed to you on the gleaming silver plate that it is here could be called _provoking_!" He stood and strode over the fireplace, not wanting to look at the witch now.

"I never said it," she whispered, her voice pleading.

He kept staring at the mantle piece, at the small clock that sat there amongst the piles of books. "All the times your friends suspected me for wanting to harm, wanting to kill them, wanting to kill everyone, it was always me who was the bad person, wasn't it? I was always the evil wizard, helping the Dark Lord?" he demanded to know. "All the times I helped you, all the times I saved your lives, and you just kept hating me. How was I to bloody well know that Black was innocent, that Pettigrew was there?" He could feel burning in his throat, and he willed himself not to let it continue. "All I knew was that three students were in danger, and from what I could tell, under a charm. But of course, I was still the bad one, thanks to a petty grudge born long ago." His hands were shaking as he held onto the mantle piece.

A sound behind him told him that the young witch had stood up. "I didn't hate you, I never did," Came her soft voice. He could tell she was trying to hold back tears. "And I never thought you were out to kill anyone. Maybe Sirius, but who could blame you, the way he would taunt you. And now I really know why you hated him. I defended you, do you know?"

He turned to face her. She was standing just in front of the armchair, the book she had been clutching sitting in her place. Her eyes were bright with tears as she continued on. "I was right to defend you against my friends, to trust you," she whispered. "Despite BlueCloud Fever apparently not being fatal, I feel you save my life, you took me away from a storm. You've given me somewhere to study lately; you've helped me beyond what anyone else could."

Her words warmed him. It had been a long time since he had heard anyone declare that they did not hate him, but instead trusted him and defended him. Even in the days of the war, many of the Order did not trust him, and even less since…

And now here Hermione Granger stood, Hermione Granger whom he had felt an attraction for growing and growing since she had been planted in his care, Hermione Granger whom he'd shared a dream with days before, Hermione Granger who was saying all those things that were so rare for him to hear.

"I do not doubt you," was all he could bring himself to say. "And I've long learnt to ignore such tendencies of foolish students who do not know what might be good for them." He was not going to say sorry, he was not going to say sorry.

She smiled warily at him, her eyes still too bright. "Thank you for all your help." She said softly.

There eyes held for a long time, before he said once again, "This does not mean that I will dance at the Ball, I have no interest."

"I do not expect you to, sir," she said.

Silence fell over them, and he returned to his seat in the armchair, smoothing down the front of his robes. "Who are you going with, anyway? The Weasley Wonder?" His stomach tightened curiously, and he realised he didn't really want to see her dancing with any of the boys from the school.

He watched as she bit her lip and turned her face away from him. "No, sir, I'm not going with Ron." He raised an eyebrow, watching for her to answer him, and watching as she began to blush furiously. "I'm going with Neville, actually," she said quietly.

It took a moment to understand her words, and when he did, he almost roared with laughter, ignoring the glare she threw him. "What a way to say farewell to the school, the smartest witch for generations, paired with the boy who couldn't go a few months without destroying one classroom or another," he commented drying before realising exactly what he'd say about it.

A tiny, pleased smile appeared on her lips and she blushed again, this time a more delicate shade. "I had not much of a choice, sir," she said in an amused tone. "Anyone whom I might have liked to go with already had a date… or were simply out of reach." Snape tried not to concentrate on one way that he might be able to take her words; simply making an attempt to wonder why she would be interested in a student would not be able to attend the Ball. But how ever hard he tried, he couldn't black out the idea that maybe she'd wanted to go with him.

Not long after, the younger witch left his rooms, telling him that she had some things to, that she had to finish packing. He felt her pain as she departed, and it terrified him somewhat to know that this might very well be the last time she would be in his private rooms. His stomach twisted at the thought, though he knew that he'd see her again, for she had left her book in his care, suggesting that he had a read of it for himself.

But as she left, an idea formed in his mind. Perhaps it would not be such a bad idea to prove a Potter wrong.

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Hermione strolled through the sunny grounds of Hogwarts with Harry, Ron, Ginny and Neville, the five of them enjoying their final days at Hogwarts; Ginny, her's with Harry being at the school. They relived the events that had occurred in the grounds – where they had sat during their free days, the Quidditch pitch, Hagrid's hut, and the lake where Neville had once fallen into and still no body knew how.

Every memory that was recalled brought Hermione closer to tears as she thought that soon she would no longer be able to create memories here. Her time was coming to a close.

However, the memories that she thought of most, were the memories that she had created with Professor Snape over the past few months. Flying around the Quidditch Pitch, soaring high above the school grounds to watch a beautiful sunset, him quite literally flying her to her rooms, the talks they had had within the Quidditch stands.

As the five of them walked around the Pitch, she told them she wanted to check on something, and dashed up to her little hiding place, recalling the last time she had been there. She remembered the way he had spoken to her, the way he had confided in her. She recalled the conversations they'd had ever since she'd gotten ill, the way she had treated him, the kindness he had shown her, and the way they had kissed. She knew she was feeling something for him, and despite knowing that she could never tell him, could never tell anyone, she wanted to leave him something, even if he'd never find it.

Pulling out a quill out of the bag she carried around simply out of habit, she murmured a quick spell to make the tip sharper and stronger. Pressing the tip into the wood of the stands, she wrote something in tiny writing, making sure that it could be read, but not easily spotted. Once she was done, she stepped back and performed a surviving spell upon the words, making sure they would always stay there, hoping that one day he might find them.

Below her, she heard her friends calling for her, wondering where she was. Taking a quick glance at the words, she bit back a smile before whispering them to herself and slipping back down to the ground below her, to the friends who waited for her.

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_Hope you all liked that one. Very hard to write that one was, lol; reasoning for it being late!_

_Next chapter should be up tomorrow, but I hold no garuntee._

_Two chapters left!_

_For all those who have asked (or should I say stated, or demanded ;-) ), yes, there will be a sequel to this story. I don't usually like sequels, but my Plot Bunny is feral (I gave him that chocolate cake I offered last chapter) and now he's demanding more work, lol. Hopefully it will be good :-)_

_Anyone want some ice-cream today? I don't feel like anything else…_


	47. The Graduation Ball

_Once again, sorry about the delay, had a small case of writers block._

_Though by the size of this chapter, I think it's safe to say it's cleared up :-)_

_I hope you all like it, presenting the second last chapter!_

_Oh, and please excuse any spelling/grammer errors... I'm having an incredibly dyslexic day today... I could hardly even read my uni application (I finally applied today, YAY!) but the bunny was pushing me and I was already late, so please, no wet smelly tuna today for grammer errors, pleeeease? LOL (I'm not tired, I swear!)_

**_This chapter is for both Kelly and Nick - Kelly, thank you for letting me use you as a sounding board for ideas, you're wonderful. And Nick, thank you for the wonderful day spent that also helped me write this chapter!_**

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**Chapter Forty-Seven**

Desperately trying to ignore the boys who were trying to belt down her door, Hermione took one last look at herself in the full length mirror that stood in the corner of her room. Yet another strand of her hair had escaped the twist she had created at the back of her head. She had used Sleakeasy's potion to smooth and straighten her hair, twisting and clipping it at the back, allowing a generous amount of shining hair to fall down from the top of clip. Somehow though, a few strands had managed to escape the twist, settling around her face. Hoping they wouldn't look too out of place, she made her way over to open the door.

Harry, Ron and Neville were all standing at the door, and all were apparently quite taken aback by her transformed appearance.

"You look… wonderful!" Harry managed out. He was apparently the only Seventh Year going to the Ball without a partner. "If I can't go with Ginny, I'm not going with anyone!" He had announced one night in the Common Room. He was wearing a set of jet black dress robes that matched his messy hair.

Ron, who was attending the ball with Karla (the pair had started dating again the day exams had finished, Hermione had found out yesterday), and dressed in the dress robes Fred and George had bought him almost two years ago, just sort of gaped at her. Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes.

In a set of dark blue dress robes, Neville might have looked like he'd finally matured a bit, had it not been for the awe struck expression on his face. In all honesty, Hermione had only agreed to go to the Ball in fear of being left without a partner, as there wasn't really any boy in the year level she'd wanted to go with. Part of her told her that there was someone that she'd want to attend with, but she pushed the thought away before she could remember just who she'd wanted to be entering the Great Hall on the arm of.

"Are we ready, boys?" she asked, fiddling nervously with her sleeve. She had been planning on wearing the same dress robes as she had to the Yule Ball in her fourth yet, simply charmed them to fit in places she'd grown a bit. However, her mother clearly had other ideas, and last week Hermione had received a new set of dress robes. As much as she shied away from wearing any shade of pink, she had to admit that the dusty rose colour was quite beautiful. The robes had been a perfect fit, with the simple lines suiting her shape.

Taking the arm that Neville offered and making their way into the Common Room, Hermione could tell that simple was clearly not the idea stuck in the heads of the other Gryffindor girls… Lavender for once appeared to be in a stunning set of black robes, with slits so high Hermione swore she had unfortunately caught a glimpse of the girl's underwear for a moment, as well as a neckline that plunged far below where it would be allowed. How did those even get away with being called dress robes, Hermione wondered?

Thankfully, Lavender seemed to the most outrageously dressed, but the other girls were not far behind, in glittering garments that seemed ready to slide off their bodies at a step. Hermione wondered if they were using magic to hold them up, and what Professor McGonagall would say about them when she saw them. When had making an attempt to show off every inch of skin possible while still clothed become a fashion for the girls? Hermione was glad she'd missed that note, glancing down at her dress. While she felt some more plain, at least she was covered, the line of the dress ending just above her chest, and thick straps holding it securely. It was more like a muggle dress then anything, but no matter.

Together, all the graduating Gryffindors descended from their tower towards the Great Hall, silence settling over them as they approached what was their final evening at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft of Wizardry. It was Seamus who reminded them quietly that they should be thankfully they were graduating, that they should be ready to celebrate and have a good time, if only for those who couldn't. They had all agreed, passing on the message to other students who were milling around the Entrance Hall, waiting for the doors to be opened.

Finally, after a moment, the doors to the Great Hall opened, the entire faculty stood just within the entrance, waiting to greet the students as they filed in. Hermione, still holding Neville's arm, fell in step with Harry and was slightly disheartened to see that Professor Snape was not one of the greeting party, the only member of the current staff that was present. However, before her stood teachers who might have taught her in her first years and never again, all the teacher's she'd ever had – save for the few who had died. Hermione's throat tightened as she was reminded of this.

Her throat tightened a little more as she was greeted by a smiling Remus Lupin who stood in front of her, his arms open. She let go of Neville and threw herself at him.

"Remus!" She cried. "It's so good to see you, what are you doing here, you should have told us!" She threw her arms around him. The pair had written quite a few times since the conclusion of the war, but he'd not seen her all year.

He held his hand up and laughed at her. "Take your seat Hermione, there'll be time for that later," he said, pressing her on and into the Hall, where she and Neville worked to find where they had been seated – thankfully with Harry, Ron, Ron's date and unbelievably, Remus.

Looking around, she was even surprised to see Gilderoy Lockhart standing in the receiving line, looking slightly confused by all the faces, but thrilled with the attention none the less. Near Lockhart, more surprisingly, stood Dolores Umbridge, who was looking at the students, nothing bothering to hide her disgusted expression.

As it had been during the Yule Ball in her fourth year, the house tables had vanished, replaced by smaller, round tables. There was no need for as many tables as there had been that time, since it was only the seventh-years this time.

It wasn't long before everyone in the Hall was seated, and Professor McGonagall stood from her place next to Terry Boot, and an empty seat. Hermione wondered if that was where the Potions Professor was meant to have been seated. She did not ponder on that for long, as the Headmistress began to speak as Remus took the empty seat on Hermione's right.

"Welcome, seventh years to your Graduation Ball," she begun. "It has been an honour to watch you pass through this school in your pursuit to truly learn the magical ways of our world. It has been a privilege to help each and every one of you on your journeys through the school, first as your teacher, and this final year as your Head of School." She paused to take a breath. "On such a note, I believe, before we begin your celebrations, that you all take a moment to be thankful for both our presence, and the memories of those who may not be present."

Hermione reached for Neville's hand, as well as Remus. All three of them had suffered losses in the past seven years, losses she did not wish to recall, no matter who it meant she was forgetting. But holding the hands of those on either side of her, she let the memories wash over her, feeling Remus give her an encouraging squeeze.

Once everyone had looked up again, Professor McGonagall continued. "Tonight is about your celebrating these past seven years, before leaving this castle as a student tomorrow morning. But there is no need to remember that for now. I beg of your that you dine, you drink, you dance, and you enjoy yourselves." Giving the room around her a small smile when it broke into applause, the Headmistresses sat down.

"Strong woman, she is," Remus commented a moment later, when chatter had finally began to rise around them.

Hermione gave him a knowing smile, before picking up her menu.

Dinner was a somewhat noisy affair, the Hall echoing with the sound of talking, laughing, promises and friendship. But when the doors to the Hall swung open, it fell silent, and Hermione twisted in her seat to see just what had caused the doors to open at the time like this.

Severus Snape stood within the doorway of the Hall, looking around and scowling in his usual fashion. Hermione noted that he was not donned in his usual billowing cloak, only a simple black frock coat and black pants that went leaps and bounds to highlighting his thin appearance. She had to bite back a smile as she realised that he at least looked somewhat healthy now beneath those robes. She raised her hand to stop herself from laughing when she realised what was also was different about the Potions Master's appearance.

As he began to walk, the rest of the school noticed, too, that instead of hanging by his head in their usual lank strands, the Professor's hair was sitting around his face in a puffy, _clean_ sort of fashion. It bounced as he moved, billowing out behind him as he walked in the same way he cloak did.

Remus, Ron, Harry and Neville sat open mouth as they watched the Potions Master take a seat a table not far from theirs. Hermione was amused by the fact what Professor Snape was still able to scowl and look menacing, though she suspected it was simply from all the attention he was receiving. _What else could he have expected_ she wondered, trying not to laugh.

"I guess, given your reaction, that you might have had something to do with this?" Remus' voice asked quietly in her ear.

Still trying not to laugh, Hermione simply told him "Later," before returning to her meal. Slowly, the rest of the Hall did the same, though she guessed that most of the students around her were taking peeks at the dark man sitting amongst them, wondering what had overcome the man.

Hermione's mind slipped back to the conversation they'd had yesterday, and her comment about showing people, that the past did not matter, and she wondered if Remus was right, if she did indeed have something to do with the clean, gleaming hair of the feared man. She let slip a pleased smile as she did so.

Dinner was over quicker then Hermione could think, and it scared her to realise that time was passing quite quickly. But there was still much to be done for the evening, she realised, as a band entered the Hall and set up on a small stage she'd not taken notice of earlier. It was not the same band that Dumbledore had hired for the Yule Ball, but a group of two women and three men. They carried what might have been a small drum set, a violent, a guitar (was it a guitar, she wondered), and an instrument she had no hope of identifying.

Taking the hand that Neville offered her, she stood, smoothing her dress robes of any wrinkles she might have obtained over dinner as Professor McGonagall cleared the floor of the tables. However, the dress was perfectly clean.

Within moments, the band begun to play a slow song, a song which reminded Hermione strongly of her pain forgiven, and she couldn't understand why. She allowed Neville to lead her onto the dance floor, she had promised him at least one dance for the evening.

However, within a few more moment, it was clear that it had been quite a mistake. Neville began to step on her toes as he made a lousy attempt to hold her close, crushing her foot through her rose heels. She grimaced, trying to take the pain, and when he suddenly stopped dancing, she was most thankfully.

But when she saw the look on his face, she was almost worried. He was staring at something in a bug-eyed fashion, a look of shock on his face. Hermione wondered what was happening, and then noticed that once again the students all her around her were trying to see something, glancing around quickly and then back, as thought trying not to be seen.

_He couldn't be…_ she thought, but even as she turned her head, she could see that her thoughts were wrong. Barely a metre of so from her and Neville, Professor Snape was holding a very stunned looking Madam Hooch near, one hand holding hers high above his shoulder, the other resting on her waist as he guided her in slow movements, matching the song.

Once again, Hermione nearly burst out laughing, despite the stunned looks on those around her, all of who were trying to make it look as though they were dancing, and all failing miserably. She was thankful when Remus tapped the completely shocked Neville on the shoulder, asking if he could cut in.

"Sure…" Neville said, looking distracted as he made his way to an empty seat of seats along the side of the Hall.

Remus quickly took up his place, reaching for Hermione's hand as she raised the other to sit on his shoulder. "You've got me curious, dear Hermione," he said quietly, as they began to move amongst the couples who were dancing around the floor now, apparently almost over looking at the Potions Master in pure shock.

She tried not to blush under the scrutiny of the man's grey eyes. "Why's that, Remus?" she asked.

He pulled her a little closer. "You've got me curious because you seem the only student who's not acting as though their eyes could fall out at any moment, due to the sight of one Professor dancing with another, or said Professor not sporting his usual greasy appearance." He raised an eyebrow at her. Turning her head slightly, she could Professor Snape still guiding the shocked looking flying instructor about the floor. "It leads me to believe that you did indeed have something to do with it."

This time, she did blush, looking at her hand resting on his shoulder instead of his eyes. "Well, I don't know about that…" she said.

She felt the wizard smile at her. "Harry told me, you know," he said very quietly, causing Hermione's head to jerk up wildly and give him a questioning gaze. "He's been writing to me, as you know, and once or twice he mentioned the fact that he was rather worried about you – apparently you've been spending quite some time with the beloved Potions Master."

Hermione ducked her head fully this time, watching their feet as they moved around effortlessly. She loved to dance, she'd admit it. "It's not as if anything's going on Remus, you surely know me better then that." She tried to say.

"Oh, dear girl, I'm not accusing you of anything like that, I'm just wondering what you said to the surly bastard to make him attend a public event, with clean hair, let alone dance." He tipped his head once again towards the man, who as the song changed from the slow medley to something only slightly faster, smoothly exchanged Madam Hooch to dance with Professor Sprout, who giggled and looked quite surprised.

Hermione bit back yet another smile. "I told him that using magic on his hair was bad for it, and that that was making it greasy," she paused, taking a moment to laugh at the expression on Remus' face. "Yes, I'm still alive, even after saying that. I've seen him with clean hair before, you know." She paused again, not knowing just how to explain the dancing. "And yesterday, I went to see him, and we talked about his Grad Ball."

A dark look fell over her dance partner's face. "Oh yes, you're right," he said in a sour voice. "I remember that incident… certainly not James and Sirius' finest moments, even I'll agree." He shook his head.

"So even you agree that it was uncalled for?" she asked.

"Most certainly," he agreed. "It was rare that it was called for. Snape learnt to keep to himself after the first few times."

"What happened?" Hermione asked in a quiet voice.

Remus just smiled at her. "That, dear girl, you will have to find out from Snape. I only know James' side of the story, and much as I loved the man as my mate, I've always had a little doubt over what really happened."

"Oh…" Hermione quiet as Remus spun her slowly.

Silence fell over them until he asked her, "So what are you doing, spending time with Snape? I mean, I've nothing against it," he quickly corrected as she narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm just curious, as is Harry."

Hermione pondered the question for a moment, taking the opportunity to look at the other girls who were currently inhibiting the Great Hall. She was almost embarrassed to see that other girls seemed to have the same idea as the girls from her own house – the more skin they could show while clothed, the better. In all honesty, Hermione felt quite plain in her dress, but it was nothing she was ashamed for, watching the disgusting way in which their male dance partners drooled like dogs all over them, apparently not caring about whether the girls noticed or not.

Feeling thankful for her current dance partner, she pulled him a little closer before answering the question. "It's quite funny, really," she said softly, catching a glimpse of the shocking Professor out the corner of her eye. "He's been really nice to me, Remus." She quickly went on to explain her illness, about which he'd already heard, and also about how Snape had treated her after she'd been ill, followed by the flying lessons, the spending time in his library, the long talks and meals they'd shared.

By the time she'd finished, they'd danced four dances in a row, and Hermione noticed that Snape swapped partners with every dance, always dancing with a different staff member. An odd feeling passed over Hermione as she wondered if she'd get the chance to dance with him. When she realised that the possibility of such a thing happening, she tired to tell herself that it was not disappoint that she felt.

Finally, she sat down with Neville, who was talking with Ron and his girlfriend as Remus went off to talk with members of the staff. "It's incredible that Remus is here, isn't it?" she asked brightly, fetching a cup of punch. She hoped that more strands of her hair had not come loose of the twist.

"Check out Lockhart, the preening fool," Ron laughed, pointing to a place in the crowd where their somewhat mentally ill ex-Professor was spinning around the floor with a Hufflepuff student. He was still looking mystified as to where he was and why he was there, but he seemed to be enjoying the attention, talking animatedly. Hermione giggled, wondering if he was offering her an autograph, as he had done so for her and her friends when she'd accidentally ran into him Christmas two years back.

"What on earth is going on with Snape?" Harry asked in a shocked voice, and Hermione's eyes fell on the Professor, who was now guiding the Headmistress around the floor. Even from the distance, Hermione could see the grace in his dance steps that were always apparent in his stride. He was somewhat light on his feet, and he moved easily. His face was neither angry, nor happy; it was his usual cold mask of indifference, keeping the world shut out. She remembered his face when he had smiled at her, the rare times that she did.

"Maybe he just decided to show everyone that he's not entirely the Greasy Git that everyone thinks he is?" Hermione suggested with a slight shrug, raising her cup to her lips and concentrating on the drink to avoid the stares she knew she was receiving from those around her.

"Hermione?" Ron asked.

Hermione gave him a steady look. "Just leave it," she said quietly.

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The night wore on, and Hermione danced with many of the boys from her year, even a Slytherin at one point, and she found herself growing quite tired, despite enjoying herself immensely. Everyone seemed to be having a wonderful night, after the eventual shock of the beginning wearing off. People even seemed to be getting used to the sight of the feared Potions Master guiding teacher after teacher around the floor, dancing with all more then once. He even dared to dance with Umbridge, whose ugly green bow had nearly fallen off in shock.

Hermione watched him all night, watched as he lead them around gracefully, not looking at anything around him, holding his face the same all night. While he may not have been the most charming or talkative dance partner in attendance at the Ball, Hermione could not fault his steps. Surely he must have danced more since his own Ball…

Once or twice she allowed herself to hope that perhaps, just perhaps he would offer her a dance. But she did not allow the hopes to really grow, clamping them down and smiling at whoever offered to dance with her again. She danced with Remus several times, along with Harry. Ron seemed caught up with Karla all night, and Neville took his leave from the Hall at an early hour.

About half an hour before the Ball was scheduled to finished, Hermione decided to follow the forgetful boy's footsteps and retire to her rooms. The night was wearing on, her feet were beginning to hurt, and quite frankly, she was sick of seeing the boys dribble over what ever the girls might have been doing. So it was with a nod to the boys, a big hug from Remus and once final sweeping look over the Hall that she left through the open door.

Crossing the Entrance Hall, about to ascend the stairs to Gryffindor tower, when she heard a male voice call out her name.

"Miss Granger," it rang.

Turning, she was surprised to see the Potions Master coming out of the Great Hall. "Professor," she nodded at him. He continued towards her, where she stood upon the first step of the staircase. On close inspection, she noticed the worry that seemed to be in his eyes. Surely she was reading them wrong – what would he be worried about?

They simply looked at her for a moment, the sounds of the soft music from the Great Hall drifting around them. Finally, he extended a hand towards her. "May I have this dance?" he asked quietly.

Hermione stared at him blankly for a moment, trying to process his words. He couldn't be serious, could he? But there he stood in front of her, offering her his hand for a dance, a dance she had been somewhat been hoping for all night. "Um, yes, sir, that'd be nice," she managed out, reaching out for his hand with her hand.

The moment their hands met, a sense of disbelief settled over Hermione. Professor Snape guided her off the step and into the centre of the empty Entrance Hall. "Here, sir?" she asked.

An eyebrow quirked above his black eyes. "Where else, Miss Granger? Would you care to go back into the Great Hall?" He smirked down at her. "Personally, I got the impression that you wished to leave."

"And yet you asked for a dance," she said softly, looking up into his eyes.

"And yet, you accepted," he smiled at her, the first smile she had seen on his face all night before he raised their hands, twining their fingers, and placing his other hand around her waist. Quickly, she raised her free hand to his shoulder, and stepped back as he stepped towards her, following his guiding hand and gentle pushing.

They began to dance slowly around the Hall, their bodies at what Hermione thought to be a safe distance. Her body seemed to be on high alert to him; she could sense him all around her, making her feel alive. She wondered briefly what was going on, the way he was holding her, the heat she could feel rising within her, the way she was getting lost in his black eyes and he guided her gently around the empty Hall.

"You are a good dancer, sir," she commented shyly as he led her.

He smirked at her. "You needn't get a big head, being right," he informed her, and she felt pride rise in her as he admitted that she had been right. "However, I must compliment you on your choice of attire."

She almost stumbled at his words, only managing to hold herself upright and hoping to the roof above her that he did not notice. However, the amusement playing across his pale face told her otherwise. "T-thank you, sir," she sputtered out.

"It is nice to see that there is at least one student around her who does not need to show every inch of her body to every available male around her," he told her, appreciation showing in his eyes.

Smiling shyly, she thanked him again, before remind him, "I am not a student anymore, Professor."

"No, you are not," he agreed quietly, his eyes searching her face. "And therefore, I am no longer your Professor." He twirled her out, her dress swishing about her ankles.

Hermione was shaken by the softness he used to acknowledge the fact – was he trying to say something more? Looking deep into his eyes as he pulled her back in, this time a little closer then before, though barely noticeable, she tried to find them. They pulled her in, and made her feel as though he was searching her soul. She wondered desperately if he could already see what she had only realised barely days before. Instead, she changed the topic.

"Have you had a chance to read that book I left you?" she asked as they upped the tempo along with the band.

"Yes, I have, and I think the suggestions you left behind where right." He nodded. "However, you'll need to come down and fetch the book before you leave tomorrow, I've not time to be mailing books all over the country."

_Or the world_ she thought, thinking about the choices she had made that day. But she did not speak this, only allowed herself to be pulled a little closer, warmed by the idea that he accepted her idea of what had occurred for them to share the dream. Warmed by the idea that it meant that even on a subconscious level, he considered her someone he could trust, someone who he could be friends with.

Taking a risk, she closed her eyes and leaned in to rest her head on his shoulder as the music once again slowed down. Idly she wondered who had picked this band – they seemed to favour slower songs, for they'd been playing them all night.

"Minerva could have done a better decision with the band," Snape said quietly, as though reading her mind and causing her to giggle slightly, warmed even more by the fact that he did not push her away when she had made such a bold gesture in resting against him. By now, they were only moving in slow circles, dancing in the shadows created by the staircase. His arm slipped around her a little tighter as silence fell over them again in an easy way.

Too soon, the music stopped, and applause rang throughout the Hall, signalling the end of the Graduation Ball. She and the Professor stepped away from each other hesitantly, as thought neither wanted to, though he still kept a hold of her hand.

"Thank you for that dance, sir," she whispered, lost once again in his black eyes.

"The only reason I danced with anyone in there, Hermione," he informed her quietly, "was so that it would not look odd for me to be dancing with the Head Girl, if I were to dance with everyone else who could sit at the staff table."

_He danced with them all just to dance with me…_ Hermione looked at him in shock. Before she could do or say anything, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. Her breath caught as he did so, and she hoped that he would not notice. But when his eyebrow quirked up as his lips pressed against her knuckles, she knew he had.

"Thank you sir…" she said breathlessly, and quite suddenly, as though he'd never been there, he dropped her hand and left, just in time for the students from the Great Hall to pour out. Thankfully, none of them took any notice of the confused Head Girl standing in the corner, trying to determine what had happened.

She knew it wasn't going to happen, so resigned herself to bed. Once she was changed and lying amongst her sheets, she swore she could still feel his arm around her, could still smell the clean scent that hung about him, could still feel a ghost of his lips touching her hand.

Confusion swept away from her. Though she knew she had a crush on him, she had hoped to walk away from Hogwarts tomorrow and forget about it. The man was clearly going to make it very difficult for her.

Thoughts were swimming around in her mind as she finally slipped off to sleep.

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_You know what, if anyone can tell me where that came from, I'd be very thankful! LOL --pats the plot bunny--_

_Who wants a carrot, in honour of our precious little bunny?_

_That was by far the longest chapter ever, lol, and the final Chapter is up next :-)_


	48. A Promising Goodbye

_And presenting the final chapter. I hope you all like it. Check the bottom for sequel details. Should be started by next week (am very busy this week)._

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**Chapter Forty-Eight**

When dawn broke the following day, Snape finally rose from his bed, having long given up on trying to find the sleep that wouldn't come. He had spent the night tossing and turning, or alternatively pacing his suddenly too small chambers like a caged wolf. He did not dare to attempt brewing a potion, his usual method of calming down, as he'd surely destroy his lab given his current distraction. He didn't even bother trying a potion, knowing it'd be pointless.

Like most like the entire graduating class and all past and present staff members, he was in shock over what had occurred the evening before at the Ball. He wondered what had gotten into him, driving him to simply attend the Ball, let alone spend the entire evening on the dance floor with one witch or another. It was with a smirk that he realised just what had indeed gotten into him.

He knew he had impressed every female staff member and possibly some of the males as well. However, he still couldn't believe that he had even lowered himself to dancing with Dolores Umbridge.

But the one dance that lingered in his mind was the final dance of the evening. He recalled it as he strode through the Entrance Hall and out into the cool early morning grounds, where the sun was just peeking over the mountains in the distance. The way Hermione Granger had felt in his arms as they danced around the deserted Hall. He felt as though they had been in a world of their own, a world that had grown smaller when she had bent her head to rest against his shoulder. His hand touched his should gently, remembering the feel of her resting against him. What he wouldn't have given to been able to dance with her and her only all night, and then some.

Not a soul was on the grounds to see Snape stumbled as he realised just what he wanted. Recovering quickly, he set off in a somewhat lazy stride towards the Quidditch Pitch, knowing exactly where he was going.

He had watched Miss Granger out of the corner of his eye all evening, watched her dance with a variety of partner and just waiting for the right time to over her a dance. He had watched her dance with the likes of the Potter, Weasley and most disgusting of all, Remus Lupin. Though it had been the bloody werewolf who had saved his life from Lestrange, he still did not find pleasure in the _man_'s company, and to watch him dance with the young woman he wanted so badly had sent pangs of anger through Snape. It was all his practice of self-control that had prevented him from storming across the Hall and cutting in. His petty jealousy was also what stopped him while he contemplated just why he would be feeling jealous.

Climbing towards his chosen destination, Snape remembered following Miss Granger from the Great Hall near the end of the evening, stopping her in the Entrance Hall before she ascended the stairs in her dusty rose coloured gown. Standing before him in such a way had shaken his resolve to dance with her – would she accept?

He had intended to take her back into the Great Hall to share the dance, where no one could find them and see them as suspicious. It was true what he told her at the end of the dance – the only reason he had bothered with the other women in the Hall was so that it would not look so odd for him to be dancing with her – being Head Girl, she was practically one of the staff.

But when her hand had slipped into his, he found he could not bear to take her back into that Hall and risk having to share her if the werewolf dared to try to cut in. Plus, they could hear the music out here, so why not use it?

So he had held her close, had begun to move, trying not to show his delight in the way she moved with him so easily, following all his guiding as smoothly as she did in the classroom. She had been a sight, biting her lip and looking up at him as he guided them around the large, empty Hall in precise movements. In all honesty, he was pleased that he had not entirely lost the grace he had learnt he possessed in his seventh year. But he needn't think about that, not now that he held this witch so near by.

It had been a conscious effort that he had not allowed her to press too closely to him; he did not want to shame himself any further with her knowledge of just what kind of effect she was having on him. But Merlin, the way she had looked at him, so shyly, as she reminded him that she was not his student, not anymore, had been enough to make him want to push his mouth against hers. And the way her eyes are searched his, the same way he was searching hers… the temptation to look beyond her eyes and check if what he was seeing with her brown depths was sincere.

Standing upon the platform he had stood with her before, he kept reflecting on the dance, the way they had slowed together, and the feel of her gentle skin beneath his lips just as he left her. He didn't trust himself to say anything as he left, out of fear that he would turn back to her and beg for another touch, a dance, and most of all, a taste.

Snape suddenly realised where he was. He had known he was coming here, known where he was headed and that he wanted to, but now that he was here, he wondered why. Looking to the edge of the tiny platform, he remembered the last time he had been there, only the second time ever, and the conversation he had held with Miss Granger. He remembered telling her things he'd never told anyone else and he growled with frustration. What was it about the witch that made him do such things, that allowed her to get under his skin?

And why did he give such a damn about what she thought of him? It was not for anyone else that he had ditched his usual robes for the Ball last night, left his hair to dry unaided and danced last night. It was not to show them all that he was not the Greasy Git the world saw him as – it was for her. He wanted to show her.

But what was he thinking? It wasn't possible that she could possible feel anything towards him, unlike he was forced to admit, albeit to himself and himself only, he felt towards her. It had been a few weeks since he had admitted he harboured an emotion far beyond friendship for her, something he had been determined to prove wrong. But after the dream, that dinner, that dance, he knew he was foolish.

Sighing, he pushed his mind from such ideas, pulling his wand out of his pocket to twirl it around aimlessly, gazing out on the grounds. As he fiddled with his wand, he felt a small pull of magic that had been cast in the area recently. A Professor at Hogwarts, he was apt at detecting spells cast in places they shouldn't be cast, aiding him often in catching students who chose to play around in the Halls after curfew.

But what would magic be doing, getting cast down here? His brown knitting, he looked around him, trying to pinpoint where the small tug was coming from. He realised that it was behind him, and he turned. There was nothing there. The tinge of magic that lingered had been cast not particularly recently, but he knew that even this was odd. Why would magic be cast on the Quidditch Pitch anyway?

Stepping the two steps before he hit the other edge of the tiny platform, he gazed around, wondering what it was. It was then that he noticed that there was a mark on one of the support beams of the stand. He stepped closer, and realised it was small handwriting, which a variation of the sticking spell cast over them to make them last.

He moved forward, attempting to make out what the writing say, when the realisation hit him that they were written in the tiny, neat writing that he had come to know as Miss Granger's. _Well of course_¸ he thought sarcastically, _who else would be writing on this particular part of the stands recently?_

He slowly read over what the writing said, before shaking his head in shock and re-reading it, making sure he took in every word.

"_To a Potions Professor so unlike others, unspoken words are as bad a potion unbrewed, or a fear unconquered. Thank you for your cure, your flight, and your help; though you've helped me in more ways then I'll ever dare to tell. HG_."

Before he could stop, his hands reached out to trace the words gently where they were ground into the wooden stand, making sure they truly where there, and not some figment of his imagination. His mind scrambled to comprehend the words that were in front of him. What was the girl trying to say? _…more ways then I'll ever dare to tell_? What couldn't she tell?

For what was about half an hour, Snape stood in the Quidditch stands, mesmerised by the words that were carved into the wood before him, words that were written for him by Miss Granger…

The image of dancing with her last night flashed back through his mind, and he recalled the expression in her eyes as she'd searched his the previous evening, as though looking for information. Again he wished that he had have gathered the courage to delve into her mind and see if the expression was sincere – it was the only way he could know for sure. Not matter how it looked; he only trusted what was in someone's head, not their eyes. He had learnt…

With the words firmly burnt into his mind, Snape turned and left the stands, hardly registering his movements. The sun had now fully risen and surely the occupants of the castle would be awakening. Hermione would be awakening. And soon enough, she would be coming to his chambers to fetch her book and maybe say goodbye.

Say goodbye, forever.

In his mind, he knew that he had to ask her what she meant by the words – if he let this opportunity pass, when would he ever have the chance to ask her again? Would he see her again? Though he had been waiting for this day for weeks now, the day where she would leave and no longer be a student in his castle, no longer to be seen every single day lingering about the halls, no longer visiting his chambers, he felt sorry and somewhat scared that the day had finally arrive. What if he indeed never did see her again? Could he possibly forget…?

Something in him snapped and told him that there was no way he would be forgetting, no way he would be letting go. Unless she told him to. Which is why he had to ask. Was there another meaning behind those words, or was she simply just trying to say thanks and nothing more? He knew he'd go crazy until he asked her.

Making his way down to his private chambers, his mind and stomach turning over and over, he prepared himself for the wait.

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Hermione woke with a smile, and wondered why. But then all the events of the previous evening came flooding back into her mind, and her smile grew, before fading.

Today was her last day at Hogwarts.

That had been her last night in this room.

Last night had been her evening meal in the Great Hall.

Blinking back tears and trying to push down the lump that had formed in her throat, she sat up in her bed, and looked around her room. It proved to do nothing but make things worse, looking at the empty walls that surrounded her, walls that a few days had held little pictures, photos, saying, poems, little sentiments. Tears slid down her cheeks as she pushed herself out of bed for the last time, and headed for her private bathroom.

It too was empty, apart from the few bits and pieces she had left out in order to help her prepare for the day. More tears welled, and mixed with water as she picked up her shampoo, dropped her clothes, turned on the shower and stepped inside.

Standing inside the shower, she allowed her tears to run freely, leaning against the walls and letting the sobs come, thanking the fact that hot water never ran out. She recalled all the days she had spent in the Halls of Hogwarts, all the classes she'd attended, the friends she'd made, the battles she'd fought. Her dismay that it was her last day rose hard and she made no attempt to fight it off, letting it wash over her along with the water.

She didn't know how long it was until she came to her senses and shut off the shower and stepped out wrapping herself in a towel and pressing her face hard into it, trying to stop herself from crying even more. Finally, she managed to pull herself together and tug on her clothing, a pair of jeans and a black blouse. She laughed quietly at her choice in blouse. Well, she did feel like she was in mourning over leaving the school.

Seeing her dress robes hanging on the back of the bathroom door, Hermione's mind was flooded with memories of the previous evening, of the Ball. She had been thrilled to see Remus, he was such a lovely bloke. And dancing around the Hall… and the Entrance Hall…

Hermione sucked in a breath as she remembered being in Professor Snape's arms. A smile broke out on her face again as her stomach did a little twist. It had been such a wonderful evening. Pulling her hair back and tying it in a haphazard knot behind her head, she remembered that he had requested that she go down to his chambers and fetch her book. Perhaps she could do so before breakfast?

Quickly, she packed all the few remaining things into her trunk, knowing that the House Elves would be up to fetch her things before the train left. However, she picked up her little back pack before leaving the room. At the door, she turned and looked around the little room one last time, her eyes lingering over the window where once Professor Snape had delivered her after an evening flight. She smiled at the window, before shutting her bedroom door one last time.

Entering the Common Room, she was surprised to see that she was clearly the last of the Gryffindor Seventh-Years to get rise, as all where perched in the Common Room, a solemn air around them all. They all looked quite tired given the late night they had had the evening before, a night they had all thoroughly enjoyed. Hermione caught the gazes of Ron and Harry and knew that she wasn't going to get to the Professor's before breakfast.

However, the Potions Master did not appear at breakfast. Once again, for the meal the Great Hall had been rearranged, but this time, it was one large round table, a seat for every student and teacher left in the school right now. Only one seat remained empty at the table, a seat Hermione desperately wished had someone occupying it.

During the meal, which was filled with chatter and exchanging of memories, the Headmistresses stood and reminded them that the Hogwarts Express would be departing the Hogsmeade station at 11am, and unless they had prior arrangements, students needed to meet in the Entrance Hall at 10.45am, giving them all a last hour and forty five minutes of time at the school. And Hermione knew how she was going to spend that time.

But as she stood to leave the table, so did Harry and Ron. They walked into the Entrance Hall with her, where she stopped and turned around, facing the pair of them. "Um, guys, there's kind of something I need to do before we leave," she said quickly.

"Say goodbye to the library?" Harry quipped, smirking at her.

"Well… no." Hermione didn't really want to tell the boys that she had to collect a book about sharing dreams from the Potions Professor and that she did want to say goodbye to the man. But she told them anyway.

Ron just wrinkled his nose. "You are a very strange girl, Hermione."

Harry, however, looked suspicious. "Why would you want to say goodbye to the greasy bat?" he asked, looked stricken.

Sighing, Hermione closed her eyes. "I'll explain it all later, on the train," she offered. "I'll see you guys back here later." Not waiting for an answer, she turned to talk down towards the Potion Master's office.

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Sitting in his desk chair was a silent and still Snape. He was waiting for some noise, any kind of hint that a witch was making her way towards him. For the past two hours he had thought of nothing but the words that had been inscribed on the Quidditch stand, and what kind of double meaning had been hidden within them. He'd even written the words down from his memory onto a slip of parchment and placing it in his desk drawer. Her book was waiting for her, however, he'd purposefully left it in his sitting room.

Impatiently, he checked the time. Surely breakfast was close to finished by now! Maybe she didn't want to come down and get her book, maybe he's scared her off the previous evening when he'd raised her hand to kiss her knuckles. Or maybe she was going to wait until right before she had to leave, in order to avoid having to talk to him. Surely she wouldn't leave her book here!

As much as he thought he was prepared for her to knock on his door, when a knock finally sounded on his office door, he jumped like a scared rabbit, immediately feeling foolish, as though she could see him. Stepping up to the door, he wondered if he really was ready for this, to ask her and to tell her what was going on in his mind. Using a hand to smooth down the front his robes, he decided that he had no choice; he had to do it, and opened the door.

There stood Hermione Granger. While she was not dressed in the breathtaking dress robes he had last seen her in, she was quite attractive none the less in her black shirt. He almost smiled at the colour choice of her shirt. Did that signal something? Mentally he slapped himself; he was getting as paranoid as the deceased Mad-Eye Moody.

"Good morning, Professor," she smiled up at him, and he was forced to remember the way her eyes had darkened when he had informed that that he was no long her professor.

"Morning, Miss Granger," he said quite stiffly, letting her into his rooms. "I take it you have come to fetch your book?"

"And perhaps explore what you thought about it, sir," she said, looking hopeful. "And… I suppose… to say goodbye." He watched as her face fell as she said that. Could she possibly not want to say goodbye to him?

Not trusting himself to speak, he led her into his sitting room, where her book was resting on the coffee table. She bent down and picked it up, holding it to herself as she stood by the bookshelves. Snape tried not to think about those arms around him as they had been. He did not sit either, choosing to stand near her, his arms crossed over her chest. How to start this? His mind raced.

"I quite agree with what the book suggested about the dreams occurring only between two people who have some sort of connection," he began, pointing one long finger towards the book she held.

"You believe we have a connection, sir?" She asked quietly, her eyes searching yes.

"Yes," he said quite simply. "We have spent a fair amount of time in close quarters these past few months, and have learnt to… tolerate each other. Perhaps that was all that was really needed, when you were searching so strongly for something."

She looked everyone around the room except at him. "Yes, I do quite agree with that. However, William Hope seems to suggest that a stronger connection than two people who can 'tolerate' each other would be needed for such an unconscious connection to take place."

"Well, what type of connection do you believe we have, Hermione?" He asked in a soft voice and watched as she turned red under his gaze. He dared to take a step towards her.

Flushing a little more, she seemed to battle to find the words she needed. "I'm not entirely sure sir. Perhaps you are right though, maybe my desire to know you is strong enough to gain such a connection." Her eyes flew wide as she realised what she'd said.

He couldn't help but smirk at her. "Or perhaps we have a connection that has been… unsaid." His choice of words flew her to look him directly in the eyes and he watched impassively as she tried to find out if he knew what she had written on the Quidditch stands. He didn't let anything show in his eyes, only proceeded to say, "Perhaps we were afraid to say something. But fears unconquered are as bad as words unsaid, are they not?"

She blanched, dropping the book. "P-professor, I di… How did you… I'm so…" she stuttered, and he held up his hand.

"It's quite alright, Miss Granger, it is quite nice to be acknowledged occasionally, even if it is in such a… unorthodox fashion." He smirked at her again. "Tell me though; have you made it a habit of defacing school property?"

Miss Granger blushed bright red, her mouth hanging open in horror. "N-no, sir."

"When did you write it?" He asked carefully.

"Monday, after I left your chambers," she whispered. "I wanted to leave you something of a thanks… but I never thought you'd actually find it."

He smirked was threatening to be permanent by now. "Then why would you write such a thing?"

Though it seemed impossible, she managed to blush even brighter then she already was. "I suppose..." she gulped, looking at the rug beneath her feet. "Some things are easier to write then say. I just needed to… thank you."

"And leave words unsaid?" He asked, his voice unfortunately showing his hint of amusement.

She gave him a shy look. "I thought it would easier to write… some things… instead of just coming out with them and saying them to your face." Her shyness turned to curiosity. "Pray tell, sir, just how did you find it?"

"I've become good at finding magic at points where it shouldn't be performed," he said with a wry smile. "I happened to be… on an early morning patrol, and stopped by that platform and found it." He didn't think that he should tell her that the reason he was up so early was because he could not sleep thanks to experiencing haunting thoughts of her. "I happened to notice that a piece of magic had been cast recently, and searched it out."

"I didn't know that was possible," she said, her eyes still full of curiosity.

"I didn't know what I was going to find, and it was certainly a surprise." He offered her a gentle smile – she seemed to be trembling. "A surprise I don't fully understand."

Her eyes fell back to the rug below their feet. "I was just trying to thank you, sir," she whispered. "You've been so good to me lately, and you've helped me with so much. You gave up an entire week for me and then gave me access to your private book collection, brought me meals while studying and took me flying. I… I had to say something."

"Yet you couldn't say something to _me_, only leaving me a note engraved in a place where the chances of my finding it were incredibly slim?" he raised an eyebrow at her. When she blushed furiously once more, he shocked himself by stepping forward and taking her hands in his, her book still lying forgotten on the floor at their feet. "You thanked me more then enough last night, though, whether you realise it or not."

Her head snapped up to look him in the eye. "How?" she asked bluntly.

"You Gryffindors have no tact, have you?" he asked, rolling his eyes. "You made me attend that dance and actually dance, you taught me that I didn't have to hide all the time." He smiled down at her. "And better yet, you even graced me with a dance." He paused, his eyes searching hers. "I did not lie, Hermione. I did only danced with any of them for the chance to dance with you."

Her voice was soft and unsure as she looked into his eyes and asked "Why?"

He was incredibly unsure why he was saying anything that he was saying now – these were not the type of words that he enjoyed even thinking about, let alone actually saying to someone. "Because, like William Hope suggested, I do feel a connection to you." Once of his hands moved on its own accord, releasing one of her hands and coming up to brush her cheek. He couldn't have stopped it, even if he wanted to. "I've become to really enjoy the time you've spent in these chambers. You are an exceptional witch, and it's terrible that it took me until your education here was over to realise that."

"I've come to really enjoy spending time with you," she said, staring up at him, seemingly unsure about him. He could not blame her, he sounded like such a fool saying what he was saying. Didn't he once upon a time have more self control then this?

"I'm sorry we couldn't have been spent more time together," he said softly, meaning it. In the last few weeks, he had found himself sitting in his empty rooms, wishing that she was there.

But her next words took him by surprise. "Perhaps, we still can." She smiled shyly at him.

Snape wasn't sure who moved first, but before he could really consider what she had just said, he was kissing her. Or she was kissing him. He didn't know anything, except that the feeling of her lips beneath his was incredible, something he'd wanted to feel again for the past three days since she'd given him a chaste kiss in Hogsmeade.

But this was no chaste kiss, not by far. The witch beneath him was pressing up towards him, and he felt her mouth open below his, sending him an invitation which he gratefully accepted, hesitantly moving his tongue to meet hers. Somewhere in his mind, he was screaming that he shouldn't be doing this, that this was wrong, that this witch was likely going to walk out of his life forever in less then an hour. But the rest of him didn't seem to be listening as he felt her hands move up his chest to slide over his shoulders.

He felt his body getting warmer as the seconds passed – how long had they been kissing? – but he didn't care. But when the young witch moved to press her body against his, he quickly broke the kiss, not wanting her to feel the arousal that had been building in his lower regions.

They stared at each other, wide eyed for a moment before he spoke, his voice catching for a moment. "Miss Granger, I apologise!" He said quickly, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. "I should not have done that, I'm very sorry." He turned away, trying to catch his breath as he realised that this was the first time he had apologised to her.

"And why shouldn't you have done that?" she asked quietly from behind him.

After a silent moment, he turned back to find her looking at him, her cheeks slightly red and her lip slightly swollen. One glance at her lips, and he suddenly stepped back towards her, his hand sliding behind her head to the base as he pulled her back up to him.

He didn't mean to do it, and shock ran through his body when he found the witch pressing her lips back to his with eagerness that almost outstripped his. Her hands came up to wrap around his neck.

After another moment, he broke the kiss again, but her arms did not move from his neck. "Why shouldn't you have done that?" she asked again. "If you had not, then I would have." Without another word, she reached up to kiss him again, and he met her lips with a forcefulness that shocked him.

Finally, finally, he managed to step back from her, feeling distinctively ruffled. "I should not have done that, Miss Granger," he said in what he hoped sounded like an even voice, "because I have been waiting a very long time to do that, and because you will be leaving Hogwarts very soon. This is… unwise." He turned from her. "I'm sorry."

"Severus…"

At the sound of her uttering his given name, he spun around the face her, his face alight, but not with anger.

"Please don't be sorry," she whispered, her eyes searching his. "I've been waiting a while to do that too, you know." Shock ran through his body, and before he could do anything, he found the young witch in his arms, pressing against him and kissing him again. What could he do but kiss her back?

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Three hours later, Hermione sat with Harry and Ron on the Hogwarts Express as it sped them further and further away from their lives as students. She hadn't told them about what had really happened when she'd gone to say goodbye to Professor Snape, she was still somewhere unsure of it herself.

The feeling of his lips, his body pressed against hers… Hermione knew that it was what she'd been dreaming of from months now, whether she knew it or not. The way he had made her body feel so alight, so hungry.

But there had been no declarations of love, no matter what she felt inside her. It wasn't the right time, and she knew it, as did it. She was leaving to travel to Africa in three days, to study Healing there for four months. Beyond there, she planned on going to America, Australia, Greece, wanting to study all she could before she chose to settle down in her yet to be decided career. Who knows, maybe she'd even settle on teaching, and she could return to Hogwarts once she was done.

Watching the boys play Exploding Snap, she remembered the words she'd said as she'd left his chambers earlier, words that she hoped he would take to heart.

"I promise I'll return."

And return she would, to claim what her heart wanted so. Her heart needed.

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_Okay, I wrote that ending about five times, and still feel that it's an incredible let down. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless, it leads directly into the sequel_

_I feel I do need to explain something though… the reason I couldn't have them get together properly in this story was that after drawing it out for so long, my choices were to either drag the story out for another fifty or so chapters, rush their coupling, or write a sequel, which will be based solely around their relationship after she returns (we all know she will). My plot bunny demanded a sequel, so I can only hope that I've got your interest enough to read it._

_Thank you to everyone who stayed with me through this, it was an incredible experience to write this, thank you everyone for your support!_

_Oh, and title of the sequel will be "**Waiting**". Well, I think anyway. Does that sound too poxy?_

_**Note:** The sequel has in fact been taken down from simply because I felt as though it wasn't right, and I was never going to finish it. Sorry!!  
_

_Thanks again everyone :-)_


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